


Long Road Ahead

by Omninerd90



Series: Guns and Ghouls [2]
Category: Fallout 4
Genre: Angst, Drug Use, F/M, Fluff, I suck at angst but it's in there nevertheless, Sensuality, Sexuality, Smut, Strong Language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-08
Updated: 2017-04-18
Packaged: 2018-08-13 23:27:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 18
Words: 39,507
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7990162
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Omninerd90/pseuds/Omninerd90
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(Sequel to Guns and Ghouls) </p><p>Rose continues her campaign against the Institute, desperate to find her son... a goal that is getting harder and harder to reach as the Commonwealth continues to throw one obstacle after another her way.  Danger waits around every corner, and as the list of new allies and favors owed grows ever longer, Rose has to navigate where her allegiances- and her heart- lie.</p><p>Updated:  ch. 5-7 have new content, because I have a problem and can't stop editing what I've already written.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Hunt Begins

**Author's Note:**

> For my readers who have been around since I first published Guns and Ghouls, I'm sorry for the long wait! I wanted to try and completely finish this before posting, but I feel that I'm close enough to wrapping up p.2 that I can put a few chapters out there without having to worry about leaving you guys hanging forever.
> 
> Adding enough content to this story to make it more than just a re-telling of the game's plot was a struggle (which is part of the reason why it's taken me so long), but hopefully you guys enjoy it. As always, if you have any suggestions/requests, I'd love to hear about them in the comments or in a message!

**(Rose)**

“What do you mean you won’t give me the key?”

“I have to protect the privacy of all of my citizens, ma’am.  It simply wouldn’t be ethical for me- as mayor- to hand over the keys to someone’s personal residence.”

Rose clenched her fists so tightly her nails dug into her palms.  “Mayor McDonough, all I’m asking is to be able to look for clues as to where Kellogg took my son.  He is a _kidnapper_ and a _murderer_.  If you won’t help me track him down, at least give me this much!”

The Diamond City mayor shook his head and sighed theatrically.  “I sympathize with your predicament, truly I do.  But I’m afraid my hands are tied.”

Rose fought back a scream and forced herself to stay calm.  It wasn’t surprising that the dickhead mayor was trying to stonewall her; he had made it clear since she had first set foot behind the green wall that he wasn’t interested in helping her.  But it didn’t make the situation any less frustrating.

“You know what, McDonough?  Fine.  I don’t need your help.”  Rose spun on her heel and flung the door to the Mayor’s top box office open.  Before walking through, she added acidly, “One of these days, someone’s going to find a way to make you suffer.  I hope I get to be there to see it.”

McDonough blanched.  “Now, now, there’s no need for such-”

But she was already gone, slamming the gate to the makeshift elevator shut with a ferocity that rattled the entire frame.  Nick had wanted her to try the legitimate route first; he thought that maybe the mayor could be persuaded to help if she appealed to his good side.  She had hardly been able to talk with him for more than two seconds before losing her temper.  That man was the worst kind of bureaucrat, and she was pretty sure he already had a grudge against her for befriending Piper.  It was a good thing that he didn’t know what she had going with his disowned ghoul brother, or he’d probably have the guards chase her off site.

She descended off the elevator and made for the entrance to Diamond City.  Nick had said that he would meet her there when she was finished; apparently there was some errand that he had needed to take care of. 

Rose trusted the detective implicitly; the man was a synth, and yet he had more compassion and integrity than most of the flesh-and-blood humans left in the world.  He was the one who had convinced Piper and Hancock to let her follow this lead before it went cold.  More than a little worried that she wouldn’t be able to survive another battle with the wasteland, they had both done their best to keep her tied down in Goodneighbor.  Rose understood their concern; the three of them had only recently rescued her from being kidnapped and tortured by a raider gang, and even she wasn’t so stubborn as to deny that trauma like that left its mark.

However, Nick seemed to understand how vital it was that she _do_ something, rather than sit around waiting to magically get better.  He and Rose were a lot alike in that regard. 

Rose was fuming, and almost didn’t notice him until she reached the top of the stairs.

“No luck, huh?” Nick asked in his New Yorker accent, customary cigarette between his fingers.  He didn’t have lungs, but the habit stuck anyway.  Part of the subroutines of his personality programming, she’d guessed.  At least he’d never have to worry about cancer.

She opened her mouth to make a smart-assed reply, but was cut off by a loud, eager bark.

“Dogmeat!” she exclaimed, her foul mood lifting instantly.  She crouched down to hug the excited German Shepherd, laughing when he tried to lick every inch of her face he could reach. 

“How’d you get here?” she asked him, receiving a whine in response.

“I got in contact with some of your minutemen, had them radio out a message to your home in Sanctuary,” Nick explained.  “If you’re going on a manhunt, then you’re going to need a damn good tracker.  I think Dogmeat here is probably the best in the business.  Had him hitch a ride with one of your suppliers… Carla, I think her name was?”

“Trashcan Carla,” Rose confirmed.  “God bless her.  I’m going to give her a bag full of caps the next time I see her.”

“She’s a good friend,” Nick agreed.  “But to get back to my original question… I can’t help but notice that you’re a key short.”

Rose grimaced.  “Yeah.  McDonough was as useless as I thought he was going to be.  I hope he gets eaten alive by ferals.”

Nick frowned.  “That’s too bad.  But he’s not worth that energy; he’ll get his own comeuppance, in time.”

“I know, I know.”  Rose sighed.  “Guess I’ll just have to break in.”

“Knowing Kellogg, he probably had a top-of-the-line lock on that door.  You sure you can handle that?”

“Haven’t encountered a lock I couldn’t pick yet.”  She tapped Dogmeat on the shoulder.  “Come on, boy.  We’ve got work to do.”

Together, the three of them made their way surreptitiously to the upper stands, where Kellogg’s domicile rested.  Nick kept watch while Rose fiddled with the lock; it was tough, certainly, but nothing a few bobby pins couldn’t handle.  After about ten minutes or so of careful maneuvering, she heard the mechanism slide open with a satisfying _click_.

“Nice,” she murmured approvingly, and cautiously pushed the door open.  She wouldn’t put it past Kellogg to booby trap the place.

“So tell me more about this guy, Nick,” she said, as they began to search through the leftover belongings.  “Murderer and kidnapper I got, but why the boogie man reputation?  You made it sound like the Commonwealth’s almost as afraid of this guy as they are of the Institute.”

“He’s not your run-of-the-mill mercenary,” Nick replied.  “Far as I can tell, he’s been around for as long as I have… only he’s held up a hell of a lot better.  Doesn’t have any enemies because they’re all dead.”  He paused.  “Well, except for you.”

“Could be his first and only mistake.”

“Knowing you, it will likely be his last.”  Nick looked around the room, a confused crease between his brows.  “Hey, this place seem a little small to you?”

“I was thinking the same thing…” Rose rummaged through the drawers of a desk, and gasped with her fingers brushed the unmistakable shape of a button.  She pushed it, and the side wall slid away to reveal a secret room.

“Ha!” she exclaimed victoriously.  Dogmeat barked his agreement, tail wagging as he padded into the room to investigate.  The shepherd almost immediately sought out some strong-smelling cigars that were resting on a side table next to some empty Gwinett Stout bottles.

“Whatcha got there, boy?” Rose asked, picking up one of the stogies and wrinkling her nose.  “Urgh.  San Francisco Sunlights?  These are still around?  They were expensive, back in the day.”

“That’s a unique brand,” Nick observed.  “You think it’s enough for Dogmeat to be able to track?”

The dog barked as though in affirmation, tail swishing and ears pricked forward attentively. 

“I guess that answers that,” Nick said, amused.  His tone grew more serious as he turned back to Rose.  “You can take care of yourself, Rose, there are no doubts there.  But Kellogg is a dangerous adversary; if you need backup, all you have to do is ask.”

Rose smiled.  “Thanks, Nick.  But I’m supposed to grab Hancock when I’m done here; I don’t want to put any more of you in danger than is necessary.”

“You know that wouldn’t scare me off,” Nick replied.  “Though to be honest, I don’t much like the idea of you heading out with John again.  With what happened last time-”

“That was as much my fault as his,” Rose said firmly. 

“Be that as it may, I still advise caution.  John’s a good man, ultimately, but he’s unpredictable and impulsive.  Not a good combination to have on an op like this.  You should take someone who’s on more of an even keel.”

Rose nodded.  She wanted to deny it, but she knew her friend’s concerns were well-founded.  Hancock had a history of heavy drug use and running from his problems, both traits that Nick heavily disapproved of.  But the ghoul had watched her back every minute they had travelled together, and in spite of his flaws Rose was hard-pressed to name a person she trusted more.  It was true that what had happened with Jayce and his band of psychopaths had, at its source, been the result of Hancock’s impulsivity- he had killed a man who had harassed Rose when she first came to Goodneighbor.  But neither of them could have predicted that Finn would have a raider leader as a brother, or that he would track them down and kidnap her to exact his revenge.  And while Hancock could easily have cut his losses and left her to die, he risked his life to make things right and rescue her.

Now, they were toeing the awkward line between friends and maybe-more-than-friends.  Rose knew she had feelings for the ghoul mayor, but the looming storm cloud of her missing son and her murdered husband made that affection very complicated.  Hancock, for his part, had been content to be in on the adventure… though there were multiple layers of guilt that he was hiding underneath his charisma, and the distractions of chems and danger.  She didn’t say anything about it, but Rose was convinced that part of the reason Hancock had insisted on joining her in her hunt for Kellogg was so that he could keep an eye on her.

“I’ll be careful,” she said softly, kissing Nick on the cheek.  “Besides, I’ll be taking Dogmeat with me.  I explored most of the northwestern Commonwealth with just him; he’ll be able to keep Hancock in line.”  Dogmeat growled lightly, and even Nick couldn’t help but chuckle.

“Just promise me you’ll keep your eyes open.”  He gave her shoulder an affectionate squeeze.  “I don’t want to see you hurt again.”

“I promise.”


	2. All's Good in Goodneighbor

**(Rose)**

Rose pocketed one of the cigars in case Dogmeat needed a refresher and- after filling up on ammo from Arturo- she made her way out of the city.  Dogmeat started to nose around for the cigar scent, but Rose tugged him in the opposite direction.

“Hold up, boy.  Got one stop to make first.”

Hancock would be waiting for her in Goodneighbor.  Being a ghoul, he wasn’t allowed to set foot in Diamond City.  And seeing as he was also the estranged younger brother of the mayor, it wasn’t too much of a stretch to assume that he’d be arrested or shot on sight.  McDonough never mentioned the relation, and Hancock had only opened up about his older brother once or twice.  But it had been enough for Rose to see that no love had been lost between either of them.  Not that she blamed him… McDonough was the worst kind of bureaucrat.

She headed for the Third Rail, an old subway-station-turned-jazz-bar, upon entering the city.  Twilight had fallen, and most of the friends she had made in the city would likely be there unwinding after another long day.  She wasn’t sure when she would next get a chance to return to the charmingly dangerous shantytown, and wanted to say goodbye.

Ham, the bouncer, made a gruff noise in his throat when she walked in with Dogmeat.  Rose gave him a wry look, eyebrow arched.

“Don’t tell me you guys have a no-dog policy,” she said jokingly.  “He’s a service dog.  I swear.”

Ham frowned in confusion.  “Service dog?”

“Yeah.  He provides the service of keeping me company.  And, you know, killing anything that makes a move on me.  The usual.”

Dogmeat barked, his expression deceptively adorable.  Ham sighed.

“Just do me a favor and keep him from biting any of the guests.  I know you and Hancock are pals, so don’t make me throw you and the mutt out.  I don’t need the hassle from the boss.”

“Cross my heart and hope to die,” Rose replied.  “Besides, when have I ever been any trouble?”  At that, she got a rare chuckle. 

Rose didn’t spot anyone she knew once she was down the stairs, but that was fine.  She settled herself at the bar and accepted a glass of beer from Whitechapel Charlie.  Even though her maternal instinct was screaming at her to tear off after Kellogg, she appreciated the opportunity to sit for a few minutes and rest.  She could feel the fatigue from the long day settling into her bones.  She hadn’t slept in 12 hours or so, and wouldn’t be able to for a while yet.

“Nice dog you got there.”

She tensed and turned to see a man dressed in a long duster leaning against the bar next to her.  She immediately marked the sniper rifle that was slung over his shoulder, but didn’t spot any other obvious weaponry.  Didn’t mean it wasn’t there, though.

“Thanks.  I keep him fit with a diet of assholes and creeps,” she responded sarcastically.

Her unwelcome visitor wasn’t fazed.  “I’m sure he makes the local riffraff quake in their boots.  If you’re gonna be traveling out in the Commonwealth, though, you might want a little more backup on your side.  You know, maybe something that can fire a gun.”

Rose rolled her eyes.  “And let me guess… you just so happen to be available?”

He grinned.  “For a price.  Name’s MacCready.  For 250 caps I’ll get you where you need to go, all limbs and extremities safely intact.”

“My extremities are none of your concern,” she said icily.  Dogmeat, picking up on her mood, pinned his ears back and began to growl in low tones.

MacCready raised his eyebrows, looking her up and down.  “Well they oughta be _somebody’s_ concern.  Be a shame to have supermutants tear apart a pretty girl like you.”  He took a swig from his own glass.  “Speaking of, what’s a girl like you doing here anyway?  Vault-dwellers haven’t historically lasted long in this town.”

It didn’t surprise her that he knew she was from a vault.  Though she had shed her vault suit a while back, the Pip-boy she kept on her arm was a dead giveaway.

“Oh, I’m playing a game,” she replied with a smirk.  “The first guy to grab my ass gets his arm broken.  Bonus points if he’s drunk.”

“Yikes.”  MacCready winced, and his gaze shifted to a few feet behind her.  “Hey, Hancock!  How’s the coolest ghoul in the Commonwealth?”

 _Thank God._   Rose turned and was relieved to see her friend approaching them from the stairs.  It wasn’t surprising that he knew where to find her; Hancock knew about everything that happened in Goodneighbor, and had probably known she was back from the moment she set foot inside the walls.         

“You’re wasting your time, Mac; she’s with me,” Hancock replied to the mercenary. 

MacCready held up his hands.  “Hey, you can take her.  I think I’d be afraid that she’d slit my throat in my sleep.”

Rose smiled sweetly.  “It’s always a possibility.”

Hancock chuckled, watching MacCready walk away before turning to her.  “Hey, doll.  You find anything in Kellogg’s digs?”

She nodded.  “I hope so.  I’m ready to hit the road if you are.”  She stood and clucked her tongue at Dogmeat.  “Come on, boy.  We got work to do.”

As they exited the bar, Hancock asked, “That’s Dogmeat?  How’d he wind up all the way out here?”

“Nick did me a favor,” Rose explained.  “We found some personal effects that Kellogg left behind.  Hopefully, Dogmeat can track the scent.”

Hancock slowed and pulled her to a stop.  “You sure you’re ready for this, doll?  From what I hear, Kellogg ain’t like the raiders and gunners and other shit you’ve gone up against.  This guy is on another level.”

Rose gave him a look.  “We’re having this conversation again?”

“Play tough all you like, Sunshine, but you need to be in the right mindset before you tear off on this crusade.  I kinda like having you around; would hate to end up bringing you home in bits and pieces.”

She wrinkled her nose at the image.  “Lovely.”

“I’m serious, Rose.”

“I know you are.”  She sighed.  “We’ve been through this, Hancock.  I don’t have the time to sit around and play the victim, not when the Institute is out there doing God-knows-what to my son.  Maybe when this is all over, I’ll have the time to psychoanalyze myself and face all of the new demons that have jumped on my back since I walked out of that vault.  But right now, I need to keep moving forward.”

He didn’t seem convinced, so she smiled and lightly shoved her shoulder into his.  “Hey, I’ll have you and Dogmeat with me, right?  Kellogg doesn’t stand a chance.”

Hancock shook his head.  “You’re ten different kinds of crazy, Sunshine.”

“So everyone tells me.”  She pulled a tin of Mentats out of her pack and popped a couple in her mouth before offering it to Hancock, who gave her a quizzical look.

“What?” she asked.

“Nothing, just not used to seeing you use chems recreationally.  Not that I object,” he added with an impish expression.

“In the absence of caffeine, Mentats will have to do.”  Rose sighed.  “God, I miss coffee.”

“Coffee?”

“Yeah, like…” She paused.  “Oh.  That’s right, you wouldn’t know what that is really, would you?”  She ran a hand through her auburn hair.  “Wow, that’s weird.  I think you just made me feel old.”

Hancock chuckled.  “Don’t worry; pretty sure that cryo years don’t count.”

“They’d better not.”  She made her way to the city entrance, swinging the new shotgun she had gotten from KLEO around to her front as she did so.  “Let’s get moving; we can get a couple of hours of travel in before it gets too dark to see.”   

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I figured that being in a climate where coffee plants can't typically grow (even outside of a nuclear apocalypse) and with the fact that even the best coffee wouldn't last 200 years without rotting, most wastelanders probably don't have any idea about the stuff. Those poor people =(.


	3. Nightmares

**(Rose)**

The trio was able to make it out of Boston before the night fell too completely.  Dogmeat had led them up across the river, where they took shelter in a small abandoned neighborhood.  Staying near the water was tricky business, though; many gangs- mercenaries and raiders alike- favored settling near the river because it provided a natural barrier.  Their party was small enough to avoid detection, but they were careful to move quietly, and agreed to sleep in shifts so that someone could keep watch.  Rose had been thankful that Dogmeat was with them; even when sleeping, the shepherd’s exceptional hearing and sense of smell would be an early warning against intruders.

Hancock had insisted on taking the first watch, but Rose didn’t find her sleep very restful.  She tossed and turned, caught in the grip of another nightmare.  Flashes of brutal strikes and the sensation of violent, angry hands on her body tore through her mind as the memories of her imprisonment with the raider gang replayed in her dormant thoughts.  Her subconscious tormenter struck her repeatedly, throwing her back and forth over and over again.  Eventually her thoughts became lucid enough to realize that she was actually being shaken, and she tore into wakefulness with a scream, fighting to free her hands as she reached for the shotgun resting beside her.

“Rose!  Rose, stop!  You’re okay!”

Pinned, she stopped fighting long enough to focus.  Hancock was leaning over her, trapping her arms by her sides to keep her from hurting herself… or from hurting him.  His dark eyes were wide and worried.  She heard a whimper and saw Dogmeat nuzzled next to her, ears back and tail tucked low.  The shepherd whined when she looked at him and licked her hands.

Seeing her come back to herself, Hancock relaxed and let her sit up.

“It was just another nightmare, Sunshine,” he said gently, and readily accepted her into his arms as she tucked herself against him, shivering.  “You wanna talk about it?”

She shook her head.  She rarely did.  She just focused on slowing her breathing and her heart rate.  Dogmeat wormed his way underneath her arm and rested his head in her lap; she ran her fingers through his fur, comforted by his unconditional acceptance.  Part of her wanted to ask Hancock for a hit of something – anything- to help her sleep, but she couldn’t afford to be groggy.  Not when her showdown with Kellogg was so close.  So she contented herself with listening to his heartbeat, and let the steady rhythm help her keep time until she was able to drift off again.

* * *

**(Hancock)**

Hancock sat by the window, alternating between watching the street and watching Rose sleep.  She had tried to take the first watch, but he shot her down before the words were out of her mouth.  She was clearly exhausted, pushing herself past the limits of her endurance.  She’d been all but asleep on her feet for the past hour.  He knew she was purposefully avoiding sleep...  and he could understand why, but she’d need to be able to see straight if she wanted to put a bullet in Kellogg’s skull.

His presence apparently made it easier for her to drift off.  Damned if he could say why, but she claimed she felt safer with him around.  Most people usually said the opposite.  Since leaving the surgery in the Memory Den Rose had asked him to share her bed- or at the very least, the room- with her each night.  It was an arrangement that had massively irritated Rose’s reporter friend Piper, who was convinced that Hancock was a good-for-nothing degenerate.  Valentine wasn’t too thrilled about it either, he didn’t think, but the synth kept his opinions on the matter to himself.

In spite of their concern, though, the two of them hadn’t done more than sleep, which was a novel experience for Hancock.  He’d had lovers throughout the years, sure, but generally when a bed was involved they were doing everything _but_ sleeping.  Weirdly enough, he found himself kind of enjoying their arrangement.  Not that every fiber of his being wasn’t dying to fuck Rose, but feeling her cuddled up against his side at night had been extremely gratifying.

For her part, Rose hadn’t been shy about her attraction to him, which had surprised the hell out of him.  Hancock was just about the opposite of her dead husband, who had been a handsome, straight-laced military type from what she had said.  Who knows, maybe that difference was why she found him so appealing.  He did his best not to overthink the psychology of it.

But Rose’s ordeal with Jayce and his band of fucking degenerates brought whatever momentum their relationship had to a screeching halt.  Though it was his arms she fell asleep in more often than not, Hancock still caught Rose flinching if he moved towards her too suddenly.  She was doing her best to hide it and he did his best not to notice, but it would be crazy to think that she could handle anything more than this unique little friendship they had developed.  She had more than her fair share on her plate as it was without throwing sex into the mix.

 

A whimper from the dog got his attention, and he turned back to see Rose fidgeting restlessly, her brow drawn into a grimace.  Dogmeat nuzzled her face and whined, but she wasn’t coming out of it.  Hancock reached out and nudged her, but that only seemed to make it worse.  Her breathing quickened and she began muttering, alternating between curses and begging.  Even in half-coherent sleep talk, hearing her plead for Jayce to stop was unbearable.

Unable to stand it, Hancock knelt over her and shook her shoulders.  “Rose?  Rose, wake up.  It’s just a dream, doll.”  Her eyes fluttered, and he shook her harder.  “Come on, Sunshine.  You can get out this.  Wake up!”

That did it.  She jerked into alertness with a sharp scream, and immediately began to thrash around, probably still thinking she was being attacked.  He saw her reach for her shotgun and quickly pinned her arms by her sides; the last fucking thing she needed was to fire that off in an enclosed space.

“Rose!  Rose, stop!  You’re okay!” he said, raising his voice as loud as he dared for the area they were in.

It took a second, but the words penetrated her brain and she grew still, her chest heaving from the panic.  Her eyes focused on his, and he watched as she worked her way back into rational thought.  Satisfied that she wasn’t going to try and shoot him any longer, he released his grip on her arms and sat back.  He opened his arms to her and she immediately accepted, tucking her head against his chest in an almost childlike way.  He could feel her shake against him, and bit back the self-loathing that arose.  _Christ, what have you done to her, John?_

Out loud, he said, “It was just another nightmare, Sunshine.  You wanna talk about it?”

Predictably, she shook her head no.  She hadn’t said a word about what was going on in her head since the night they had shared drinks in the Third Rail.  Had that only been a few days ago?  It felt like much longer than that.

The rest of the night passed in silence.  At some point he must have drifted off, because he woke up to Rose busily loading their guns and double checking her armor and supplies.  She didn’t mention the night before, and he wasn’t about to bring it up.  Still, concern weighed heavily on him as he watched her prepare for her showdown with Kellogg.  He had never been religious, but he found himself praying that he hadn’t made a mistake in letting her tear off after the mercenary before she was ready.


	4. Killing the Killer

**(Rose)**

“You fucking son of a bitch!”

Rose glared up at the ceiling as Kellogg’s voice faded over the intercom.  They had just battled their way through an entire building full of synths; thankfully they were all Gen 1’s or Gen 2’s, which were little more than mindless metal skeletons.  If there had been any Gen 3 Coursers present, it was unlikely they would have survived.

They were in some kind of office.  Kellogg- who had apparently been watching their progress since the moment they walked through the door- had just finished informing them that he was waiting on the other side.  Rose was ready to burst in with gun blazing, but Hancock held her back.

“Hold up there, Sunshine,” he said.  “That fucker’s counting on you running in there angry.”

“Angry doesn’t begin to _fucking_ cover it!” she snarled.  Dogmeat growled next to her, echoing her sentiment.

“Rose!”  Hancock grabbed her by the shoulders.  “We’re gonna make this asshole pay for taking your son, but you gotta be smart about this!  He’s a professional killer, and if you run in there outta your mind with anger, he’ll drop us both.”

Rose knew he was right, and reluctantly stilled herself.  She took a few deep breaths and tried to force her fury to the back of her mind; she had been doing it for months, but now that Kellogg was only a few yards away, the effort felt astronomical.  It would’ve been easier to sever her own arm.

“That’s better,” Hancock said, satisfied that she was back under control.  “I’m right behind ya, sister.  Let’s go bury this fuck.”

Rose nodded and brought up her shotgun, kicking the door open.  Hancock stayed about two feet behind her, but Dogmeat walked right next to her side, hackles raised and teeth bared.  Kellogg stood about twenty feet away, surrounded by another three or so synths.  He regarded her calmly, with an air that was like a parent or a teacher dealing with a child in the middle of a tantrum.  It was infuriating.

“And there she is,” he said; his gravelly voice pinged through her memory, threatening to engulf her in flashbacks.  “The most resilient woman in the Commonwealth.”

“Where is my son?” Rose growled, careful to stop six or so feet back, out of his reach.  “Where’s Shaun?!”

Kellogg shrugged.  “Hmmph.  Listen, lady, I’m just a puppet like you.  My stage is just a little bigger is all.  Shaun’s a good kid… a bit older than you expected, am I right?  He’s doing great.  Only… he’s not here.  He’s with the people pulling the strings.”

“The Institute.”  Rose spat out the words like they left a bad taste in her mouth. “Goddammit, you mercenary motherfucker.  You will tell me where to find my son or so help me God-”

Kellogg remained maddeningly calm.  “What’s the cliché?  ‘So close, and yet so far away?’  That’s Shaun.  But don’t worry; you’ll die knowing he’s safe, and happy.  Safer than you could keep him in this wasteland, certainly.  At least he has a loving home.”

“You call the Institute loving?” Hancock scoffed.  “How many times they brainwash you to make that stick?”

Kellogg ignored him, keeping his attention focused on Rose.  The man looked exactly the same as he had ten years ago, when he had taken her baby and killed Nate in cold blood.  He also looked… tired?  Like this was a dance he had done one too many times.  No doubt he had ruined countless lives in his career.  But it was all going to stop now.

“Tell me where to find the Institute, Kellogg,” Rose demanded.

“You don’t find the Institute, lady; the Institute finds you.”  He cracked his knuckles and let his hand rest on the butt of his gun.  “But I think we’ve talked long enough.  We both know how this has to end.  So…”  He met her gaze unblinkingly.  “You ready?”

Her lips curled back over her teeth in a ferine snarl.  “Burn in Hell.”

Rose fired, but Kellogg was already moving, ducking behind one of the cubicles that were littered throughout the room.  Rose started to follow him but Hancock yanked her back, pulling her behind cover just as a barrage of laser beams flashed through the air where her head had been.  Dogmeat crouched next to her and inched towards where the mercenary was hiding.  Tracking Kellogg for so long had put the canine on a one-track mind, and Rose kept a hand on him to make sure he didn’t jump out and get shot.

“I’ve got the synths,” Hancock said, leaning out to nail the closest one with two shots in the chest.  “You get that bastard.”

Rose nodded, and moved to the other side of the cubicle to poke her head out.  Kellogg was waiting for her and shot his heavy .44, missing her face by centimeters.  She fired a blast from her shotgun and took advantage of the second he pulled back to move forward.  When he peeked around the corner again she stood against the back of the cubicle, intending to blow the back of his head out.  Somehow he anticipated her attack and moved with a nearly inhuman reaction time, rolling back and out of the way of the shot.  Dogmeat lunged and grabbed his arm, holding Kellogg long enough to get him clipped in the leg.  Kellogg cursed and kicked the German Shepherd off with his good leg.  He dove behind a desk before Rose had a chance to squeeze off another shot.

Rose made to jump towards him, but he reached around and unloaded another two shots. She was forced to her to change direction, and ducked behind another desk.  She yelped when a stray laser beam hit her armor, sending painful jolts along the metal bits.  She turned to deal with the synth but Hancock was already on top of it; he bashed the thing’s head in with the butt of his double barrel.

She saw Kellogg move out of the corner of her eye and fired, just barely missing.  With the injured leg he couldn’t make it far, and collapsed behind another cubicle.  He stood back up at the same time Rose did.  They both fired; his shot grazed her arm, powerful enough to tear through her armor, but hers missed.  At that moment Dogmeat darted between them like a furry lightning bolt and latched onto Kellogg’s arm, viciously thrashing his head back and forth.  It gave Rose just the opportunity she needed; her shotgun boomed and hit him square in the chest.  He fell back, and without hesitation Rose ran forward and emptied the rest of her magazine into him.  She kept firing long after he was dead.

Rose stood over his body, a white-knuckle grip on her shotgun.  Her entire body was shaking.  Kellogg laid at her feet, much of his body now a pulpy, bloody mess.  Dogmeat lingered, still growling as though he didn’t trust the mercenary to stay dead.  She didn’t know that she did, either.

A feeling of panic and helplessness started to rise up inside of her.  She had come all this way, fought so many enemies, and for what?  She was no further now than she had been.  All Kellogg had done was confirm what she already knew.

“Leave it to you to take out the most dangerous man in the Commonwealth,” Hancock said, stepping over the synth wreckage to come up next to her.  “Remind me to never piss you off.”

Rose didn’t answer, glancing around instead to see if there were any clues left behind.  One computer was untouched by lasers or bullets and seemed to be running; she knelt in front of it, her fingers rapidly tapping out a hacking sequence.

“Hmmm,” she murmured, scanning the documents that opened up before her.  It seemed like some sort of report log, with details on her and other targets around the Commonwealth.  One report spoke about delivering Shaun to the Institute, and setting up camp here in Fort Hagen to prepare for the “renegade” – which meant her, if she assumed correctly.  But there was no information about where the Institute was located, or how to get in.  After deactivating the security lockdown, she shoved away from the desk in disgust.  Of course Kellogg wouldn’t have left anything that sensitive on an open terminal… he was a scumbag, but he wasn’t stupid.

She stood and walked back over to search Kellogg’s body.  She palmed his gun and what ammo he had left, and paused when she noticed something odd attached to his skull above his ear.  With some effort she got a decent grip on it and yanked it out, trying not to gag at the bits of brain matter that came with it.  It looked to be some sort of cybernetic implant.  Thinking that it could prove useful at some point, she carefully wrapped it in some fabric torn from Kellogg’s shirt, and stored it away in her pack.

With no other clues or information to be pilfered, Rose and Hancock made to leave Fort Hagen.  They would have to make the trek back to Diamond City to tell Nick about what they found – or didn’t find.  But Rose decided to take them into Sanctuary first.  It was close by; they could resupply there and maybe get a decent night’s sleep in actual beds before going on their next crusade. 


	5. Home Sweet Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter's been edited a bit from what I originally posted... adding in some character development and such to make it a little more believable/ better.

Rose was quiet for much of the day’s journey to Sanctuary, and Hancock couldn’t blame her.  He knew that she was distraught that she had neither found her son, nor uncovered any information about where he was physically hidden away.  She had allowed herself to hope that her battle might be drawing to a close… instead she was nearly back at square one.  He hoped that she could at least take comfort from having killed that fucker Kellogg and getting vengeance for her husband’s murder.  Having an enemy that dangerous out of the picture would certainly be something to celebrate in his book.

The road to Sanctuary was largely uneventful.  It was a general rule in the Commonwealth that the northern bits were considerably less dangerous than the South, being less densely populated and home to fewer ravenous, post-apocalyptic monsters.  It was a welcome reprieve from constantly having to run and duck through the streets of Boston.  Not that running and gunning with a severely pissed-off troop of homicidal lowlifes on your heels wasn’t thrilling, but it was nice to not have to look over your shoulder every few seconds.

Rose sighed in relief when she spotted the familiar rocket-shaped sign of the Red Rocket truck stop she now called home, and even Dogmeat seemed pleased, prancing ahead of their party with ears high and tail wagging.  There was an individual standing at a guard post next to the road; he watched them approach with caution, but visibly relaxed when Rose waved in greeting.

“Hey, Sturgis!” Rose said when they were close enough to hear each other.  “You on guard duty today?”

“Yep,” the grease-stained man replied with a friendly smile.  “Good to see you’re still alive and well, Rose.  And you too, Dogmeat!”  He rubbed the canine’s head, and Dogmeat whined happily when he scratched his ears.

“Hancock, this is Sturgis,” Rose said, and internally winced when Sturgis did a double take as her friend approached.  Ghouls were somewhat less common up north, and the prejudice against them was just as alive and well as it was further down south.  Thankfully, though, Sturgis had the grace to recover quickly, and he reached out to shake Hancock’s hand.

“Nice to meet ya, friend,” he said with an affable smile.  “Good to see that Rose has people watching her back.”

Hancock nodded.  “That, and whatever other parts of her that attract bullets.  Which is to say, pretty much all of her.”  Rose shoved him lightly and he chuckled.

“Sturgis is one of the settlers that Preston was helping, back in Concord,” she explained.  “He lives in Sanctuary just up the hill with the others, but they’re kind enough to help keep an eye on my place here while I’m gone.”

“Hey, it’s the least we could do after you took out those raiders and got us up and running,” Sturgis said.  “I hope you don’t mind… I’ve been tinkering a bit since you left, and I was able to get two turrets working up on your roof there.  Old Codsworth is better with computers than I am, and he was able to connect them to that terminal you’ve got in the back so that they don’t go shootin’ anything you don’t want them to.”

“That’s awesome, Sturgis, thanks!”

“So you two plannin’ on sticking around for a while, or just stopping to gas up and go, so to speak?”

“We can’t stay long.  We’ve got just enough time to snag some supplies, that’s about it.”

Sturgis nodded.  “Well, I’ll head back over into Sanctuary and see what we can dig up for you.  Why don’t you two come along… Mama Murphy’d love to see you, and I’m betting you could use a real dinner too.”

After storing their packs inside the truck stop, the trio followed Sturgis up the hill into Sanctuary.  Seeing the little suburb always gave Rose an odd feeling in her stomach; even after the bombs and two hundred years of ruin and decay, there were so many hints of her old life left around.  Old rusted toys and cars, plastic Halloween decorations that had somehow endured the nuclear bombs… sometimes she still expected to see her old neighbors standing out in the dead yards.

Still, there was happiness to be found in the new residents, who had taken the empty skeletons of her old home and turned them into something new.  Several of the houses had been patched up and repaired, and it seemed that Sanctuary had acquired new faces in her absence.  Everyone was busy with farming, construction, or even selling… a few trade stands had popped up.  Sheltered by the creek, the local hills, and the support of the Minutemen, Sanctuary was thriving.  It was good to see.

Dogmeat immediately ran and curled up at the feet of Mama Murphy, who was sitting in her chair underneath the awning of the house she had adopted.  The old lady smiled to see the shepherd and beckoned to Rose, urging her to come over.

“My, kid, it’s good to see you,” she said, her slow, raspy voice comforting.  “Some of the folks here, they were worried you might be dead, but I knew you’d be alright.  I saw it.”

“Guess they oughta listen to you more often,” Rose replied, kneeling down to give her a quick hug. 

“The Sight showed me a dark stranger too; I guess this must be him,” Mama Murphy said, nodding her head at Hancock.

The ghoul looked confused.  “The Sight?”

She nodded.  “That’s right.  The chems, they help me to see things, always have.”  She turned to Rose.  “Couple of weeks ago I got ahold of some Jet, saw you walking with a stranger with a dark past.  You pull people like that too you; always will, I think.  You’re gonna have trouble gettin’ rid of him if this is the guy.”  She seized Hancock up appraisingly.  “Eh, you could do worse, far as lovers go.”

“Mama Murphy!”

“What, like you think you’re hiding it?” the old lady asked, while Hancock laughed. 

“I think I like her already,” he said to Rose, who had her palm to her face.

Mama Murphy smiled.  “I know you’ve got business to tend to, kid; I won’t keep you.  Bring me some Jet before you leave and I’ll see if the Sight doesn’t bring me anything to help you on your journey.”

“Sounds like a deal.”  Rose gave the old woman another hug before walking off.  Dogmeat stayed behind, content to rest in the shade.

“That woman reminds me of the grandmother I always wanted,” Hancock observed, walking in step with Rose as she set off for the backmost part of the settlement.  “Right down to the chem use.”

Rose rolled her eyes.  “Preston would kill me if he knew I was giving her more Jet, but she isn’t crazy.  That whole ‘Sight’ thing is the real deal.  She saw the deathclaw attack back in Concord, and she says she can feel my son’s energy here in the Commonwealth, whatever that means.  And she helped me when I needed to save Nick from Skinny Malone.”

“How so?”

“Told me to tell Skinny ‘Remember the quarry and Lilly June on the rocks.’  No idea what that was supposed to be mean, but damn if I didn’t do it and Malone let Nick and me pass.”

They had reached what she was looking for: a cellar, out back of one of the ruined houses.  Rose knew it had been there back when it belonged to the Thompsons, who were wine enthusiasts.  When she found it again after getting out of Vault 111, she discovered that all of the wine had been cleared out, and instead it had been transformed into an improvised bomb shelter.  Now the residents of Sanctuary used it to store supplies, including ammunition and arms.  She let herself in and helped herself to what they needed, careful not to take too much.  She was barely able to make it back up the steps before nearly running into the hovering metal orb that was her robot butler, Codsworth.

“Oh, my most sincere apologies, mum!” Codsworth said, backpedaling so that she and Hancock could climb out of the cellar.  “I had heard that you returned from your travels, and simply had to rush over to see if it was true.”

“No worries, Codsworth.  It’s good to see you too,” Rose replied.

The robot turned the gaze of one of his eyes to Hancock.  “And who is this you’ve brought with you?  No doubt another brave soul to help you combat the brutish denizens of this wasteland, hmm?”

Hancock glanced at Rose, brows raised; she shrugged.  Codsworth was always one for the dramatic.

“The name’s Hancock,” he said, tipping his hat since Codsworth didn’t have a hand to shake.  “Mayor of Goodneighbor.”

“A mayor!” Codsworth fluttered.  “How delightful.  An honor, sir, I assure you.”

“Yeah, er… pleasure’s all mine,” Hancock replied haltingly, while Rose bit back an amused smile.

“Is there anything I can do for the two of you?  I am certain you must be famished.  Supper is certainly in order.  And perhaps a bath and a change of clothes?”

“Later, Codsworth,” Rose said.  “Why don’t you fill me in on what’s happened since I’ve been gone?”

That sent the robot off on another tangent, and Rose listened patiently as they made their way back to the center of the settlement so that she could make her rounds with the rest of the residents.  Hancock was content to hang back and watch her interact; it was almost like she was a mayor herself, the way these people looked to her.  Each one brought their own concerns and successes to her, and wanted to hear about her experiences in the rest of the Commonwealth firsthand.  Several of them called her General, the way the minutemen had back at the Castle.  Rose fielded it all with the patience of a pro, which was incredible considering she had just hunted down the Institute’s favorite hitman and come away still standing. 

* * *

**(Hancock)**

As late afternoon edged into twilight things finally quieted down.  Hancock had been wrapped up in a conversation with Mama Murphy while Rose made her rounds with the other settlers.  He liked the old woman… he didn’t know too many people her age who weren’t ghouls, and even then those were few and far between.  People didn’t tend to make it that long out in the heart of Boston; those that did were usually locked up safe and sound in Diamond City.  She gave him a run for his money handling her chems too; the old bird matched him nearly hit for hit with Jet without batting an eye.

“Oughta steal you off back to Goodneighbor,” he reflected, as he lounged on the cool concrete next to her seat on her wide porch.  “You’d fit right in out there.”

Mama Murphy gave a raspy laugh.  “You’d be in trouble if I was thirty years younger, kid.  You know how to flatter an old woman.”

“What can I say, I’m a sucker for a pretty face.”  He winked, and she laughed again.

“Explains why our Rose caught you hook, line, and sinker.”  She wagged a finger at him when he opened his mouth to brush her off.  “Don’t bother denyin’ it.  I believe you’re the one I saw at her side, and the Sight ain’t been wrong yet.  Been seein’ it for a long time.  Thought it might’ve been Preston, at first… man believes in her so much, I think he’d jump off a bridge if she told him it was the right move.  But the instant I saw you two walkin’ down that road, I knew.”

“That girl… she’s got a big destiny ahead of her,” she continued on thoughtfully, her rheumy eyes glassy with the Jet.  “Her energy’s become tied to the whole Commonwealth.  Didn’t have to be that way, but she chose it.”  Dogmeat whined at her feet, and she patted him absently.  “I know she seems strong, kid, but she’s gonna need friends like you, right up to the very end.  She’s got cracks runnin’ through her like spiderwebs, and it ain’t her own force of will that’s keepin’ her glued together.”

Hancock frowned as he cast his gaze up and down the street, now mostly empty.  “Speakin’ of Rose… where’d she get off to?” 

Mama Murphy squinted across the street.  “My guess?  That’s her old home, right there.  That’d be the first place I’d look.”

“No shit?”  He ground out the butt of his cigarette beneath his boot, and tipped his hat to her.  “Thanks for the tip, Mama.”

Rose’s home was only a few yards across the street, but as soon as his boots cleared the threshold it felt like he had gone someplace thousands of miles away.  It wasn’t that the house looked very different from the other ruins that were slowly being repaired around the settlement… but there was a heaviness in the air, like something was holding its breath.  To be honest it would’ve made the hair stand up on the back of his neck, if he still had any.

“Rose?”

There was no reply.  He stepped forward cautiously, and found himself looking at his surroundings with interest.  A few pieces of furniture- a couch, some chairs, an old table- had stayed intact.  Old appliances sat rusting in the kitchen area; it was hard to imagine that they had been new the first time Rose had seen them.  Hell, she’d probably even went shopping for them with her soldier husband.  They hadn’t been scrapped or reclaimed by the other settlers; everyone probably stayed clear out of respect.  All that shit would’ve been gone in an instant back in Goodneighbor, but Sanctuary seemed a little too utopian for that.  At least he was pretty sure utopian was the right word… he had a tendency to get mixed up sometimes when he ran Mentats and Jet together.

A few frames were knocked over in the shelves next to the door.  He picked one up and dusted off the glass with the cuff of his coat; it was some sort of paper, covered in fancy writing.  “University of Massachusetts,” it read, “The Board of Trustees, in accordance with the recommendation of the President of the University…”

Self-important gibberish, was what it sounded like.  But he saw the word “law” further down the page, along with Rose’s name, and it clicked.  This had to be that degree she was always talking about.  Awful lot of work for just a piece of paper, but what did he know?

He set the frame back down, carefully so as to not damage the fragile glass.  He walked a little further into the house, heading down what was left of the hallway.

“Rose?” he tried again, but there was still no answer. 

He came to a bedroom on the left side, and after a moment of hesitation stepped through.  He couldn’t exactly explain why, but he felt guilty, being there.  Like he was trespassing.

There wasn’t much left, just a bedframe that was mostly smashed to bits.  The same bed she had doubtless shared with Nate, night after night.  He grimaced… now _that_ was an image he didn’t need bouncing around in his skull.  He half-imagined that he could smell her scent lingering in the room, though he knew that it had to be his imagination… or the drugs.  The only smells that would be left after this long were dust, rot, and rust.

As he cast his eyes about the room, trying to imagine what it might’ve looked like before the war, something caught his eye.  A small box, almost invisible under layers of dust and grime, was tucked away on a shelf across the top of the closet.  Again, that nagging feeling that he was invading something private tugged at his consciousness, but the temptation was too great to ignore.  Carefully, he slipped the box down off the shelf and peered inside.

It was a collection of… stuff.  Most of it was papers too faded or water-stained to make sense of.  But something rattled inside, and after a moment of shifting things around his fingers closed on a thin metal chain.  He lifted it out and brushed his thumb across the surface of the thin metal rectangles attached.  They were dog tags… same as a lot of those Brotherhood jerkoffs wore.  Sometimes some of the Gunners, too.  The surface was worn down a lot, but he could make out some letters and numbers that didn’t make sense, with a name at the top:  Shaun P. Alexander.

Comprehension clicked then with a chill that tripped down his spine.  Rose’s father had been military.  These had to be his.  That, or she was cheating on her husband with some guy named Alexander, and that didn’t seem like her… not even in pre-war times.

He stared down at the tiny pieces of engraved metal, lost in thought.  She’d named her son for her father, he realized.  Guess that made sense.  At least she didn’t name him after her husband.

Finding these dog tags felt almost too personal.  After all, she’d had them hidden up in the corner of a shelf where they’d done unnoticed for two whole centuries… made a guy think she didn’t want them to be found.  But after a moment of internal debate, Hancock pocketed the tags.  There’d be a good chance Rose would be pissed at him for snooping around in her stuff, but she probably thought the tags had been lost to time.  It’d be good for her to have them back… Probably.

“Mayor Hancock?”

“Jesus!” Hancock swore, hand jerking reflexively towards his knife.  “Didn’t hear you come in there, Codsy.  Oughta give a guy some warning.”

“Apologies, sir.”  The hovering ball of metal floated down the hall and turned his three eyes on his with an unnerving focus.  “Might I ask what you are doing here?  Not that guests aren’t completely welcome, of course.”

“Looking for Rose, what else?”  He tapped a box of cigarettes against his palm and slid one out.  “You haven’t seen your mistress around lately?”

“Why yes; she was walking up the hill to the vault, I believe, not too long ago,” the robot butler replied in a chipper tone.  “I offered to accompany her, but she declined.  She does usually make the pilgrimage alone.”

“The vault?  The one she fell out of?”  He frowned.  “Where’s that at, exactly?”

“Just up the hill, there.”  Codsworth gestured towards the northern part of the settlement with one of his appendages.  “Quite easy to find, really.  Just follow the trail up to the top of the hill.  The entrance is rather large; you can’t miss it.”

“Thanks.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahhh I love Mama Murphy. I feel like she and Hancock would probably end up being besties.


	6. Guilt, Grief, and Liquor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> New content added in... what I had originally written seemed a little too abrupt/ rushed. Hopefully you all like this more, even if it makes the fic even longer xD.

**(Hancock)**

The sun was rapidly sinking down behind the hills as Hancock made his way up the dusty path to the vault.  About halfway up he could hear the cadence of Rose’s voice, though her words were indistinct.  It almost sounded like she was arguing with someone… but who was she with?  One of the settlers?

“What do you want from me?!” he could hear her snarl as he drew closer.  “It’s what you would’ve done!”

He was almost at the top of the hill, and could see the shadow of her form standing against the deepening purple velvet of the sky.  She was pacing back and forth with jerky, unsteady movements; he spotted the shape of her pistol in one hand, and a bottle in the other.

“You don’t get to be angry at me when you’re dead,” Rose continued, and he caught the slur more clearly in her words now that she wasn’t shouting.  “Fuck, I still can’t believe that you’re dead.”

She stiffened at the sound of his footsteps and immediately leveled the pistol in his direction without turning her head.  Even though she was swaying gently on her feet, her arm was totally steady.  She clicked the safety off and he backpedaled in alarm.

“Whoa!  I get it, you wanna be alone.  No need to give me a new hole to breath out of.”

“Hancock?”  She glanced sidelong towards him, and relaxed.  “Sorry.”

He shifted on his feet, uncertain whether it was a good idea to move closer or not.  “Didn’t mean to interrupt… err, whatever the hell it is you’re doing.”

“Having a conversation with my husband,” she replied, waving her pistol towards her front.  He spotted for the first time a roughly-made cross that had been driven into the ground, its base surrounded by smooth stones that had probably been carried up from the riverbed.

“Jesus,” he murmured.  “Hey, look, if you wanna get outta here…”

She plopped unceremoniously onto the dirt, folding her legs beneath her hips as she took another swig from her bottle.  “I know he’s not really here, you know.  I mean, his body’s there, in the dirt.  But he’s not _here_ here.  Preston and Jun helped me bring him out of the vault and bury him after I saved them from the raiders in Concord.  I can still hear his voice, sometimes, when I come up to visit.”  Her brow pinched.  “Or maybe it’s just what I think his voice used to sound like.  It’s hard to tell anymore.”

She had dropped the pistol as she talked, so Hancock figured she probably wouldn’t kill him if he got closer.  Even in the darkness, he could see the flush that stained her cheeks, and the glassiness in her eyes.  She was at least as drunk as she had been that night in Cambridge, maybe more… though in a radically different mood.  He wondered how many times she had been up here to visit this place.  From the way she was handling it, it seemed almost like some kind of penance.

“I thought he ought to know that I killed the man who took our son,” Rose explained, even though Hancock hadn’t said anything.  She mimed shooting her shotgun.  “Bang, bang, bang.  Bet you never saw that coming from me, didja, honey?  Not from your sweet Rose.  Never so much as swore in front of you until you died.”  She snorted to herself.  “Picture-perfect housewife.  It’s just as well.  Probably would’ve blown up sooner or later.”

She took another drink, and Hancock chanced a question.  “Hey, doll, how much of that have you had?”

“I don’t think I’m blacked out yet, so not enough.”  She tilted her head up towards the sky and frowned.  “Or maybe I am… it’s so dark.”  She glanced sideways at him, face still pointed to the sky, and the curve of her cheek lifted in a quick smile.  “Your eyes are dark like that too.  Like the night… they’re not cold, though.  I’ve always liked that about you.”

“Flattery’ll get you everywhere,” he replied, and she giggled, even hiccupping slightly.  “You say that to all the ghouls, or do I get to be special?”

Even sitting at the foot of her husband’s grave, she won out as the cutest drunk he’d ever talked to.  There was probably some particular level of hell reserved for flirting with a drunken widow while her husband’s rotting body lay buried a few feet away, but he found it hard to stop himself.

“You already know that you’re special,” Rose said.  Then she seemed to be hit by the same thought he’d had; her eyes shifted back to Nate’s grave with a frown.  She stared at it wordlessly for a moment, before tipping the bottle back and helping herself to another generous swig.

Hancock knew if she kept that up, she’d go from cute to comatose pretty fucking fast.

“Far be it from me to preach sobriety, but d’you think that’s a good idea?” he asked, trying to keep his tone casual.  “Thought you were lookin’ to hit the road again soon.”

“I avenged my husband but failed at finding my son.  I think it’s a fucking great idea.”  She tilted the bottle back and forth in her hand, listening to the swish of the alcohol inside.  “Besides, if I drink enough, I won’t dream.  I don’t want to dream tonight.”

He knelt down on one knee beside her, and carefully eased the pistol away… just to be on the safe side.  But Rose was rambling, lost in her own thoughts now. Chances were she’d talk herself out before picking a fight.

“I should miss him more,” Rose stated; she had begun to absently trace Nate’s name in the dirt with her finger.  “We were together for three... almost four years.  I think about Shaun every hour of every day.  But Nate… he’s fading.  And I don’t really feel sad about it anymore.  I miss so many things about my old life… but I don’t miss the man I was going to spend my life with.  How fucked up is that?”

She laughed, but it sounded empty.  She went to take another drink from the bottle; Hancock deftly plucked it out of her hand and tossed it off to the side.

“Hey, what the hell?”

“Cuttin’ you off, Sunshine.  Don’t think alcohol poisoning’s really the way you wanna go.”

Rose tried to stand, but her legs were uncooperative; she wobbled dangerously for a moment before sinking back onto the ground with a frustrated sigh.

“Urgh.  Whatever.”  She gave him a narrow-eyed look and wagged her finger.  “I know my limits, Mr. Mayor.  I am just actively choosing to surpass them.”

He shook his head.  “Leave it to you to be wordy when you’re wasted.”

Night had fallen completely by now, but the full moon illuminated enough for him to be able to see her okay.  His eyesight had shifted somewhat more in favor of the dark after becoming a ghoul, anyway; the bright sunlight tended to give him a headache. 

Rose yawned, and her shoulders sagged sleepily.  Now that she had stopped moving, it looked like fatigue was gaining on her fast... that, and a stomach full of liquor.  She needed a long, solid night of rest- probably several of them- if she was going to keep up the fight, otherwise exhaustion could kill her as surely as a bullet would.

“I think we should get you back to your truck stop,” he observed, as another yawn escaped her.  “You need sleep.”

Rose chuckled tiredly.  “You trying to get me into bed, Hancock?”

“Every damn day, Sunshine.”  She smirked at that and propped herself up against his arm, her eyes already closing. 

She wasn’t going to make it anywhere on her own.  Even if she could walk, he doubted she’d be able to see straight… she’d probably end up closer to the Slog than her own settlement.  Hancock tucked her pistol into the flag around his waist and carefully scooped her up in his arms, taking care not to move too quickly in case the motion made her feel ill.  She didn’t fight it; she simply wrapped her arms around his neck and buried her face into his shoulder before drifting off again.

“Come on, Sunshine,” he murmured, as he set off back down the hill.  “Think we’ve had enough fun for one night.”

* * *

It was much darker by the time he reached the truck stop; the hills blocked most of the little light that illuminated the streets of Sanctuary.  Rose had a generator powering her home, but he’d be damned if he knew where anything was.  Not that he even really wanted to turn on a bunch of lights anyway… Rose had fallen completely asleep within minutes after walking down from the vault, and for once it didn’t seem like she was caught in another nightmare.  The last thing he wanted to do was accidentally wake her up.

He maneuvered clumsily around the interior of the truck stop, biting back a curse as he rammed the edge of the counter with his knee, and finally set Rose down on her bed with a sigh of relief.  She didn’t seem to notice the transition; she stretched and settled into the mattress, one arm over her head and the other resting across her stomach.

He reached for her pack, which was resting by the doorway, and fumbled around blindly inside of it until his fingers closed around a stimpak.  She’d cuff him upside the head if she knew he was “wasting” the medicine, but she’d be worse than useless if she took the full brunt of the hangover that was headed her way in the morning.  He toyed with the idea of giving her a little Med-X too, to get ahead of the headache before it actually hit.  In the end he figured it’d be best to let her make that decision whenever she woke up.  Knowing her, she’d just white-knuckle her way through it.

Carefully, he rolled up her sleeve and eased the needle into the crook of her elbow.  She was sleeping so hard that she didn’t so much as flinch.  He gave her about a quarter of the stimpak; it wouldn’t be as effective as being hydrated, but she might not want to puke her guts out in the morning.  He tried not to think about how soft her skin felt under his fingers.

He paused then for a few moments, uncertain of what to do.  It had become her pattern to snuggle up against him out on the road, but she was always the first to ask.  Slipping into bed with her when she passed out drunk felt presumptuous… or even borderline creepy.  But on the other hand, if she woke up (especially from a bad dream) and he was nowhere to be seen, she could get worried, or even panic. 

It gave him such a weird feeling, knowing that she’d come to depend on him like that.  Most people had only ever depended on him for a steady supply of chems.  On some level he could feel that tight, tense feeling that told him he wasn’t good enough, that he needed to get out before he fell in over his head.  But he sorta liked having Rose, resourceful as she was, rely on him.  In fact, he liked it a lot.  And he liked it even more that she refused to show that side to anyone else.

He watched her sleep for another minute or two, suppressing a chuckle as she snored lightly.  He’d tried to tell her that she snored once, and she’d turned bright red before hitting him and insisting that was a lie.  He didn’t mind it, though.  Snoring was better than moaning, or screaming, or babbling, and you tended to get a lot of all three when you opened your home to the wayward and the chem-addicted. 

She shivered in her sleep, even though it wasn’t a cold night.  He pulled the thin blanket she carried with her out of her pack and spread it over her body; and then on a second thought, shrugged out of his coat and added that as well.  He’d be warm enough on his own- he had the rads to thank for that.

He remembered spotting a cot folded up in the garage when they had stopped by earlier, and decided that’d be the best bet.  He spent another couple minutes groping around and trying not to swear when he knocked the tools off of Rose’s workbench (seriously, he had to figure out where she kept a flashlight or a lantern or matches or _something_ ).  Once he finally found the damn thing, he carried it back into the back room… and was wholly unsurprised to see Dogmeat curled up by his mistress’s side.

“Don’t give me that look; I’m not the one who did it,” Hancock said to the dog, who was watching him with a condemnatory expression.  “She got wasted all on her own, pooch.”

Dogmeat huffed and rested his head across her chest pointedly, as though to say _Mine_.

“Yeah, yeah, enjoy it while you can, mutt.”

He popped the cot open and settled onto it with a small groan as his joints creaked, stiff from being on his feet all day.  Another quick check to make sure that his double-barrel and Rose’s pistol were both within easy reach, and then he finally allowed his own eyes to drift closed.  Dogmeat settled down too with a light sigh.  It was only a matter of minutes before both of them joined Rose in the exhausted oblivion of slumber.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One thing you may discover about me as a writer is that I am no good at drawing out angst, and tough emotional shit will almost invariably be followed by action, fluff, smut, or some combination of the three. 
> 
> This (meaning this series) is actually the first fic I've ever written where my main character has to deal with emotional trauma on a massive and multi-layered scale, so I'll have to beg your indulgence for my lack of experience in this particular subject. ;)


	7. More Than Friends P.1

**(Rose)**

Dawn arrived roughly for Rose.  _I am never going to fucking learn_ , she thought to herself as she winced and rubbed at her aching temples.  She cracked open her eyes and saw that she was lying on her bed in the Red Rocket Truck Stop.  The memory of how she got there was escaping her.  She stared at the ceiling with a frown, trying to remember.  She had gone up to visit Nate’s grave after dealing with the settlers… she had only planned on taking a couple drinks to keep the edge off of her guilt.  Obviously that went out the fucking window.  She had started arguing with Nate, or his memory, or whatever you wanted to call it…

Oh, shit.  And then Hancock had showed up.

She slapped her forehead with her palm, then hissed when it made her brain throb.  She had gone up there alone knowing that she would be a mess… she always was when she visited Nate.  She was sure any psychologist would have a heyday with her masochistic need to dwell on Nate’s murder, but the guilt she’d feel if she neglected him would have been worse.  Somehow, Hancock had figured out she was up there- she was going to have a few words with whoever told him- and got to witness her in all of her drunken, grief-addled glory.  Well, the drunken part didn’t bother her so much.  She saw him high all the time, and it wasn’t like they hadn’t spent time drinking together.  She’d even let him get her stoned on chems once or twice… her threshold for addiction was a lot lower than his, though, so she stayed cautious on that front.

But she hadn’t wanted him to see her dealing with the messed-up emotions she still had for her dead husband.  Their relationship was on precarious enough ground as it was, without him thinking that she was still hung up on Nate.  There was a lot of hurt there still, probably always would be… he hadn’t been perfect, but having her partner of several years torn so violently from her world hadn’t been right.  There were many parts of Nate that she still loved and would miss.  But she _was_ ready to move on.

She groaned quietly, and then forced herself to her feet.  She couldn’t remember much of what she’d said the night before, either.  Hopefully she’d hadn’t made _too_ much of an ass out of herself.

She glanced over to the other side of the room, where Hancock had was still asleep on her cot.  His hat was pulled over his eyes, blocking out any hint of light that might have filtered into the room.  Dogmeat was stretched out beside him; his furry paws sprawled over Hancock’s chest and legs.  She vaguely remembered Dogmeat cuddling with her at some point during the night, though she’d started tossing and turning as her buzz began to wear off.  Dogmeat had probably switched over to get some peace.  The sight made Rose chuckle to herself, even though laughing made her the pain in her head pulse some more.  _If only I had a camera._

Quietly, she filled her pack with everything she’d need for a walk over to Abernathy Farm.  Meeting with Blake to discuss the possibility of the farm becoming a fully-fledged settlement was the first on the list of things she needed to get done.  Getting an early start wouldn’t hurt.  Plus, taking the chance to go off on her own would give her the time she needed to overcome her embarrassment from the night before.  She knew she owed Hancock some kind of explanation for her behavior- not that he’d demand one of her, but she’d give it anyway- and she wasn’t quite ready for that discussion yet.

She scribbled a quick note on a scrap of paper explaining where she’d gone (and that she’d take Codsworth with her, just to be safe).  She left it on her pillow next to Hancock’s neatly folded coat, and slipped out into the cool morning air.

* * *

The rest of the day passed in a curious combination of agonizing slowness and unexpected quickness.  It was noon by the time Rose and Codsworth returned from Abernathy Farm; the walk in the fresh air had done some good for her hangover, though Codsworth’s good-natured but incessant chatter had done nothing to help her headache.  Time dragged as she met with Marcy to discuss the need for more plantable crops, especially when the shrewish woman pulled no punches when telling her how she felt about Rose bringing a ghoul into their settlement.  That fight had only been curtailed by Mama Murphy, who’d heard them arguing from her porch and had told Marcy to shove her prejudices up her ass.

Rose spotted Hancock in bits and pieces throughout the day.  He’d tried flagging her down a couple of times.  Each time, she’d think about the state she’d been in the night before and would slip away.  She was pretty sure she had almost shot him, now that her brain could pick details out of the boozy fog.  And had almost certainly made him listen to her senseless rambling about Nate.

She could only stay busy for so long, though.  She headed back to the truck stop as afternoon edged into twilight.  She’d last seen Hancock chatting up a few of the traders who were renting beds at Mama Murphy’s for the night, but that had been a couple of hours ago.  With night falling, he’d end up at the truck stop sooner or later.    

She found him sitting on the roof of the Red Rocket, up underneath the steel girders that held up the stop’s namesake.  It didn’t surprise her; that was her favorite spot too.  High enough that you could see anyone coming from any direction (usually a lot sooner than they could see you), and sheltered enough that she could hide when she needed a break from the needs of the Minutemen and her settlers.  She felt his gaze on her and tried not to feel guilty as she went over and plopped herself down across from him.

“There she is,” he remarked, smoke curling out of his nostrils and from the lit cigarette between his fingers.  “Was startin’ to feel like you were avoiding me.”

“Maybe a little,” she admitted. 

“How’s the head?”

She grimaced.  “Feels like someone replaced my brains with angry radscorpions.”

He nodded.  “You were workin’ pretty hard at drinking yourself under the table last night.”

She fidgeted with the cuff of her flannel shirt, worrying the worn fabric.  “Yeah, about that.  You weren’t supposed to witness that, last night.  No one was.  It’s… embarrassing.”

“Why?”

She frowned, looking back up at him, but he was being serious.  He watched her closely, dark eyes opaque in the dimming light of the evening, with that little head tilt that said he was really paying attention.  She had a flash of telling him that his eyes were like the nighttime, or something to that effect, and struggled not to hide her face behind her hands.  She sighed and dropped her head against the steel behind her as she tried to find the right words.

“It makes me look insane,” she said at length.  “Hell, it makes me _feel_ sort of insane.  And guiltier than a whore in church.”  He chuckled, and even she felt her lips perk up a little at that.  “Hence the drinking.  Talking to Nate… I guess it’s my way of trying to find closure on this whole thing.  Or at least part of it.”  She rubbed her fingers against her temples.  “Hasn’t really worked that great so far though.  Usually it just leaves me sad or angry.  Or both.”

“That doesn’t seem that embarrassing to me.  Now, wakin’ up stark naked in a shop you wrecked while blacked out on a questionable combination of substances-with a gun barrel pressed against your balls- now _that’s_ embarrassing.”

She squinted at him, trying to decide if he was being serious, and then laughed.  “Oh, Hancock.  No.  You didn’t.”

He grinned.  “Only a coupla times.  Once before I went ghoul, and once after.  Woke up to KLEO’s gentle ministrations both times.  First time she threw me out onto the street and shot at me ‘til I ran outta her sight line.  Second time was the gun-to-groin scenario.  Guess I’m lucky she’s got a weakness for my charm and good looks.”

Rose rolled her eyes.  “She’s an assaultron.  I’m pretty sure your caps had a bigger effect than your looks.”

“Yeah, probably that too.”

“You’re lucky she didn’t kill you.”  She grew a little more serious, and reached out with her foot to nudge his boot.  “Hey, thank you for bringing me home last night, by the way.  I would’ve been okay; Codsworth knew to come find me if I didn’t show up after a couple of hours.  He can’t really carry a person, though, so I would’ve woken up hideously hungover with my face in the dirt... which has already happened at least once.  I owe you one.”

“I’d say ‘not at all,’ but I kinda like the sound of that.”  He winked, and she felt herself go red.  “And speakin’ of favors…”

He rummaged around in his pocket for a moment, and then brought out something on a thin metal chain.  He dropped it lightly into her outstretched palm.

“Hope you don’t mind.  Mama Murphy pointed me in the direction of your old place when I went lookin’ for ya, and I happened to come across that.  Figured you might wanna have it.”

“Snooping, were you?” she asked wryly, before glancing down at the object in her palm.  When she did, her jaw just about hit the floor.

“This is…” Rose rubbed her thumb over the tags, eyes wide.  “These are my father’s dog tags.  I just assumed that they’d be gone forever.  I didn’t even bother looking after I…”

Her voice trailed off, and Hancock shifted in alarm when her eyes began to fill with tears.

“Christ, Sunshine, I didn’t mean to upset you or anything…”

She shook her head and wiped the tears away before they could fall.  “No, no.  Thank you so much for this.”  She took a deep, steadying breath.  “These were all I had left of him, after he died.  I thought for sure I’d never see them again.”

She slipped the tags over her head and tucked them into her shirt, pressing them against her heart.  Then she threw herself forward and wrapped her arms around him in a fierce hug, startling him enough that he dropped the second cigarette he’d been trying to light.

“Thank you,” she repeated, her voice muffled against his coat.  She looked up at him, a genuinely happy smile lighting up her face.  “You have no idea what it means to have these back.”

* * *

**(Hancock)**

“Thank you.  You have no idea what it means to have these back.”

“No problem,” he replied, a little lamely, but only because his brain was currently turning to mush.  Funny how quick she could make that happen.  She was looking at him with that gorgeous smile that he loved, happy and bright without a trace of irony.  Her knees rested on either side of his hips, straddling his lap for balance, and her arms still wound around his neck.  She was close enough that he could feel the warmth coming off of her skin, could feel the gentle tickle of her breath against his face.  Not that they hadn’t been close before, but when she was looking at him like that…

Before the rational part of his brain could comprehend what he was doing, he leaned forward and kissed her.  A move that could have very easily backfired, considering all she had been through.  So he was more than a little surprised when she leaned into him instead of pulling away, the rest of her breath coming out in a little sigh against his mouth.

She pressed herself against him and kissed him back… a little hesitantly, he thought, like she was feeling out how far she could take it.  He put his hands on her hips and squeezed lightly; she tensed for about half a second, and then relaxed into him.  Her tongue flicked against his lips, shyly requesting entrance, which he gladly provided.  He stifled a groan as her taste filled him.  He could feel himself growing hard as he imagined what it would be like to taste the other parts of her, to bury himself between her legs until he had her gasping and screaming his name…

Then she shifted, grinding her hips down against him, and he groaned for real.

“You might wanna take it easy, Sunshine,” he warned her, voice a little ragged.  “Keep that up and I don’t know if I’m gonna be able to stop.”

“I don’t want you to,” she replied.  She tightened her knees around his hips and traced a line of feather-light kisses along his jaw.  It took a few moments for his heart to pump enough blood back to his brain for him to fully understand what she said.

“You sure?” 

“I’m sure.” 

She kissed him again, her mouth claiming his more urgently before she pulled back to look him in the eye.  Her cheeks were flushed, bright with color, and her eyes were darker than he’d ever seen them.  She bit her lip, and he could feel her hands tightening around the collar of his coat.

“I want you to make love to me, John,” she said.  She smiled then, her lips lifting up in a slant that was almost a smirk.  “Don’t make the mistake of saying no a second time.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

He wrapped his arms around her waist and anchored her more securely against him.  His mouth found the graceful arch of her neck; he toyed with the idea of leaving a hickey on her smooth skin as he followed her heartbeat up and down her veins.  The thought of her being visibly marked as his was almost too intoxicating to ignore.  But like she was reading his mind, Rose took his face in her hands and brought his lips back to hers.

“Don’t even think about it,” she warned good-humoredly.

Fine.  Onto the next good idea, then.

He slid his hands underneath the hem of her shirt.  Again, there was that quick instant of tension- so fast that he wasn’t entirely sure he hadn’t imagined it- but she melted back into his touch as he carefully explored the contours of her stomach and back.  She hummed happily, but froze a little when he tugged at the waistband of her jeans.

Remembering how she had reacted when he’d tried this at the Slog, Hancock waited, watching her for either permission or rejection.  The last fucking thing he wanted to do now was scare her off by moving too fast.  She thought about it for a couple of seconds, brow creasing just slightly, but then she nodded.

“It’s okay.  I need this,” she pressed her forehead against his, closing her eyes, “and I want you.”

Fuck, if hearing her say that out loud wasn’t like sending X-Cell burning through his veins.  He deftly unfastened the front of her jeans and, after pausing for a brief moment to let her prepare herself, slipped his hand inside.  She jerked a little and he quietly shushed her, like soothing a spooked animal.

“Hey, it’s okay, Sunshine,” he said, speaking low into her ear as he slowly stroked her over her panties.  “It’s just me.  Ain’t nothing to be afraid of.”

She nodded once and exhaled slowly, like she didn’t trust herself to speak.  She was obviously nervous, but he was gratified by how wet she already was in spite of that.  Responsive, too.  Within about half a minute he could already tell where her sweet spots were by the way her fingers clenched onto his shoulders, nails digging through his shirt.

After a minute or two- might’ve been longer, he wasn’t really keeping track- he pushed her panties aside so that he could touch her fully.  Her breath hissed through her teeth, but it wasn’t a fearful noise; she rocked her hips against his hand, searching for more pressure.  His thumb drew circles around her clit, and when her breathing began to speed up he slipped one finger inside of her.  She gasped, eyes flying open wide, and began shaking as he began to tap a rhythm against that good spot, grinding the heel of his palm against her as he did.

“You okay?” he asked, voice growing hoarse as his own need was beginning to make itself painfully known, straining against the front of his pants.

She made a noise that was almost a growl, head dropping back and eyes closed.  “Do _not_ stop doing that.”

He grinned and continued to pulse in and out of her, adding another finger for good measure.  She made another sound between a gasp and a mewl that he would willingly do anything to hear again and again.  Her breathing grew faster and shorter, until finally Hancock felt her muscles clench tightly around his digits.  She reflexively bit down on his shoulder, muffling the beautiful, strangled cry that tried to erupt from her throat, and Hancock clucked in tongue in disapproval.

“See, doll, now that ain’t gonna do.  Guess I’m gonna have to try a little harder if you’ve still got enough control to try and stay quiet.”

“Holy fuck,” she sighed, still trembling as she came down.  “That’s the first orgasm I’ve had in over 200 years… at least from someone other than myself.”

“Glad to be of service.” 

He brought his hand to his mouth then, licking the taste of her off of his fingers provocatively.  His eyes stayed locked on hers; she watched him with her lips parted, her expression shifting from relaxed to flustered to hungry in the space of only a few seconds.  Then she smiled, and playfully snagged his hat and spun away before he could stop her.  She perched his tricorn on her own head and beckoned for him to follow her.

“Come on, Mr. Mayor.  I’m not nearly through with you yet.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yep, rewrote the sex scene. I figured it made more sense that Rose would want to be in control of that experience, after her kidnapping trauma. And also what I had originally written was way too brief.


	8. More Than Friends P.2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think this is my first time writing anything this explicit, really. Hopefully it came out well ;).

**(Hancock)**

Rose disappeared down the ladder at the back of the roof.  Hancock didn’t waste any time in going after her- this was _not_ an opportunity he was going to pass up again- but by the time he reached the ground, she was nowhere to be seen.  

He walked around to the garage, a jolt going through him when he saw several articles of clothing discarded on the floor.  He followed the trail up into the truck stop; he turned around the same counter he’d shinned himself on the night before, and saw Rose leaning in the doorway to her back room.  She was dressed solely in his hat and an unbuttoned flannel shirt.  She’d kept on her father’s dog tags too, the metal glinting dully between her breasts.  She was smiling shyly, but her confidence piqued up when she saw his expression.

 “Jesus Christ,” he swore, as he took in every inch of her curves and smooth skin.  “I gotta be hallucinating.  Either that, or this is the most realistic dream I’ve ever had.”

“Then why don’t you get over here and find out?” she asked archly, reaching out to him.

Her fingers twined briefly with his, and she tugged him over to her.  Her eyes stayed glued to his as she pressed his palms against her bare skin.  She leaned forward to kiss him but kept her hands on top of his, guiding where he touched her.  Ordinarily he’d be the one to take control, to eat her and touch her and fuck her senseless until she couldn’t tell which way was up anymore.  But there’d be plenty of time for that later… or so he hoped.  If taking the reins now made her feel more secure, then he was all for it.

She brought his hands up to her breasts, and bit down lightly against his mouth when he brushed his thumbs over her pert nipples.  He teased her, gently rolling and tweaking the dusky nubs.  But when he ducked his head to use his mouth, she moved back, and pulled him with her onto her bed.

She straddled him, her lips exploring what she could reach of his jaw, throat, and shoulders as she made quick work of removing his shirt.  He’d lost track of exactly when his coat had disappeared.  Having her busy with his clothing meant his hands were finally free, and he used the opportunity to his full advantage.  He explored every plane of her body, tracing a path down her spine to her firm, full ass, and then back up again.  Her skin was like butter underneath his fingertips, her muscles somehow both taut and soft at the same time.

Once she tossed his shirt to the side, she pushed him back into the mattress.  Her hands tugged at the flag around his waist- struggling for a second with the knot there, which made him smirk- and then she was past that, too.  She eagerly reached beneath his waistband to wrap her hand around his length, and an uncontrolled groan escaped him.  He was hard as a fucking rock, and the pressure from her fingers as she squeezed felt _so damn good_ …

Rose made a small sound as she stroked him, part wonder and part pleasure.

“Didn’t expect me to be all there, didja?” he asked, his voice barely over a husky growl.

Rose shook her head a little sheepishly, though there wasn’t anything sheepish about the way she continued to explore his shaft.  “I was never really sure… not that it would’ve mattered…”

His chuckle was cut off by another groan when she brushed her thumb over his head.  “No worries, doll.  That’s one thing goin’ ghoul didn’t take from me.”

“Evidently not.”

His eyes closed, breathing becoming more erratic as her touch grew bolder.  Then the warmth of her palm disappeared as she tugged his pants the rest of the way off, and he jerked as he felt the hot, velvety touch of her tongue flick against the underside of his shaft.

His eyes immediately flew back open and he reached down to stop her with a quick shake of his head.

“No, doll, you ain’t gotta do that.  You don’t owe me anything.”

“But what if I _want_ to?” she asked; her hands were drawing patterns along his hip bones that made it hard to concentrate.  “What if I want to taste you?  Would you let me?”

He didn’t immediately have an answer for that.  Just about every person he’d fucked after becoming a ghoul were in it for something other than physical attraction:  money, chems, power.  A chance to curb the loneliness, in the case of the few other ghouls he’d slept with.  He’d never had any delusions about the revulsion others felt for people like him.  Even the ones who fell for his charm closed their eyes or looked away, pretending to be with someone else… or maybe pretending to be with who he was a few years ago.  Rose was the first person he’d been with since destroying himself with that drug who not only wasn’t disgusted by his scarred, pitted flesh, but actively desired him.

Maybe the wasteland rads had torched her brain more than she thought, because she had to be crazy to want him.

Rose watched all of these thoughts traverse his face in silence for a few moments.  Her lips were pulled up at the corners, her eyes sparkling in the growing darkness.

“I seem to have made the great Hancock speechless,” she reflected, seeming extremely pleased with herself.  She caressed him with a feather-light touch, just enough to send a jolt up his spine.  “Tell you what:  if you can find your tongue again, tell me if you want me to stop.  But I hope you don’t.”

Without waiting for him to respond, she ducked her head again, swirling her tongue around his shaft before taking him fully into her mouth.  His breath exhaled in a ragged moan as the slick heat of her mouth and tongue whited out all of his rational thought.  She suckled him eagerly, and a minute or so began a low hum in the back of her throat.  It made her entire mouth vibrate and Hancock cursed unintelligibly as his hips bucked into her.

“ _Fuck_ , Sunshine, I’m gonna…”

No sooner were the words out of his mouth than she pulled away, replacing the warmth of her mouth with that of her sex as she straddled him.  She stretched herself out on top of him, grinding against his now painfully erect cock as she claimed his lips with hers.

“I want you inside me, John,” she said, her voice a low whisper against his ear… or where his ear used to be.

He had imagined hearing her say that so many fucking times; the real thing was so good that she nearly had him coming early like a goddamned teenager.  He pushed himself deeply into her as she rocked back onto him, groaning as her muscles tensed around him.  He was nearly shaking with the effort that it took to hold himself back, but he wanted time to engrave her image in his memory, with her eyes feverish and lips parted in a not-so-silent cry of pleasure. 

She gyrated on top of him, using each thrust to come almost completely off of his cock before taking him back in to the hilt.  Her muscles began to tremble, and when he reached between her legs to press his thumb against her clit she cried out, his name erupting from her lips.  Her muscles clenched and pulsated, and her entire body shuddered as she rode out the orgasm.

She held him against her then, her body pressed against his as tightly as it was possible to be.  She held his gaze, the expression in her eyes soft and wild and yearning all at once.

“Come inside me, John.  Right now.”

He’d never been so happy to take an order in his entire life.  His hips thrust sharply up into hers; he growled her name against her neck as he emptied himself inside of her, his hands clutching at her hips, anchoring her against him.  She rode him until he had filled her completely, and then melted on top of him with a happy little purr.

Energy spent and nerve endings still buzzing, neither of them moved for several minutes.  Hancock rested his forehead against hers, and Rose pressed a hand against his cheek, lightly caressing his damaged skin as they caught their breath.  He could feel their hearts beating against each other, until Rose shifted to curl up against his side, her head pillowed on his arm.

“Damn,” he remarked, and Rose chuckled at awe in his voice.  “You know, times like this, I know all that karma stuff is bull.  Because no one like me deserves to be this lucky.”  He brushed Rose’s hair back and pulled her chin up so he could see her face.  “You okay, Sunshine?”

Rose smiled, her cheeks still flushed from the afterglow.  “Potentially the most okay that I’ve been since I fell out of that cryo tank.”  She nuzzled against him and closed her eyes sleepily.  “For right now, at least.”

* * *

Hancock stared absently out at the darkness through the window, lost in thought.  Rose was still curled against him, her head resting on his chest and her legs entwined with his.  She slept peacefully for the first time in days, her breathing even and her brow smooth and untroubled.  He doubted that sleeping together would be a long-term solution to her nightmares- though he was more than willing to give that a shot- but seeing her get some actual rest that didn’t involve drinking herself into a stupor was almost as gratifying as the sex had been (almost). 

He was having trouble believing that she had really just seduced him… not that he hadn’t been imagining that scenario for weeks now (right down to the damn hat, how did she know that?).  She had been so much better than any fantasy his drug-addled brain could come up with.

Careful not to wake her, he traced his fingers down the bare skin of her back, following the outlines of the different scars there.  It struck him that none of those had likely come from her life before the vault.  Some of them he knew, having helped to stitch them up before the stimpaks could knit her skin back together.  Others were new- to him, at least- and he wondered what she had done before making it to Goodneighbor to earn them.

His hand stilled as he contemplated everything they had been through to get to this point, and Rose shifted on the mattress next to him.

“Mmm, don’t stop now, that feels good,” she murmured, eyes still closed.

Hancock chuckled, and began caressing her again.  “Sorry, Sunshine.  Didn’t mean to wake you.”

“You should be sleeping,” she reproached him; the sleepiness in her voice was adorable.  She cocked her head and studied him, her eyes slightly unfocused.  “What’s up?”

“Just trying to remember how I was able to get here, with you.  If someone had told me a year ago that I was going to wind up in bed with a gorgeous red-headed vault dweller from 2077, I’d have told ‘em to sell me whatever they were smoking.” 

She laughed.  “Welcome to my world.”

“Yeah, you do kinda win the award for most screwed-up life.”  He sat up a bit to see her better.  “Hey, speaking of your life… what do you miss the most?  Besides your son and your husband, I mean.”

He regretted the question almost as soon as it came out of his mouth, fearing that it would trigger the homesick depression she battled so hard to ignore.  After spending the whole day surrounded by relics of her past, it was hard not to wonder.  But rather than making her melancholy, the question actually made Rose smile.  

“ _Definitely_ hot showers,” she replied.  “Oh my god.  That used to be one of my favorite things.  Nate used to make me wait until he was done first because I had a habit of using up all the hot water, especially on my more stressful days.”  She paused contemplatively.  “Though the stressful days I had back then are pretty damn tame compared to the ones I have now.”

As though on cue, a long, slow wail echoed through the darkness, making them both jump.  It was followed closely by a second and a third.  Rose swore to herself and jumped out of the bed to hastily throw on her clothes.

Hancock followed suit.  “What’s going on?”

“That’s Sanctuary’s siren,” she explained tersely, grabbing her shotgun and making certain it was loaded.  “Something’s attacking the settlement.”


	9. Never A Dull Moment

**(Rose)**

Codsworth met them out on the bridge between Red Rocket and the suburb, somehow managing to look frantic even without a face to emote with.  Dogmeat was with him, teeth bared and every hair along his spine raised.

“Miss Rose!” Codsworth exclaimed.  “Hurry!  One of our guards saw a deathclaw headed our way from Abernathy Farm… it will be here any minute!”

“Fuck,” she growled.  “Do we have any word on Abernathy?  Blake, Connie, everyone, are they alright?”

“I’m afraid I don’t know, madam.  There have been no transmissions on the radio that we could tell.”

She let out a wordless snarl of frustration.  “Get anyone who can fire a gun over to the eastern guard posts.  Hide everyone else in the supply cellar and bar the doors, do you hear me Codsworth?  Don’t come out unless you hear my voice on the other side!”

The robot didn’t argue, hovering off as quick as his jets could carry him.  Rose ran over to the nearest settler, who stared out into the darkness with a white face and wide eyes.

“You the one who saw it coming?” she asked.  He nodded.  “Just the one, right?”

“I… I think so, but it’s so dark… I just saw a big horned shadow.”  His eyes were as wide as dinner plates.  “Looked like a damn devil.”

“That’s not too far off,” she muttered. 

Off in the distance, the air vibrated with the sound of an angry roar.  Dogmeat snarled gutturally, trembling with the urge to take off after the sound.  The shepherd had the heart of a goddamned lion.  The settler, on the other hand, went even paler and was shaking like a leaf.

“I’ve never fought a deathclaw before,” he murmured, frozen to the spot.

Rose took one look at him, swore, and slapped him soundly across the face.  The settler stumbled, the shock jerking him back into awareness.

“Get your ass up that ladder and onto the roof,” she commanded, pointing at the house beside them. “Kick the ladder down when you’re up there, and stay away from the edge.  I can keep the deathclaw’s attention on me so long as it doesn’t see you.”  She glanced at Hancock.  “You should really get up there too.”

Hancock gave a quick laugh.  “You serious, Sunshine?  That ain’t gonna happen.  If you wanna keep ordering me around like that, though…” He winked.

Around them, more armed settlers had gathered.  Spotlights popped on loudly, illuminating the area.  Rose could feel the earth shake under her feet to the rhythm of heavy, loping steps.  She shoved the settler towards the ladder and ran out to the edge of the spotlight, Dogmeat and Hancock on her heels.

The deathclaw hovered at the edge of the light.  It was easily ten feet tall- perhaps taller, with the horns.  Small reflective eyes glinted out of its face, and it dragged its six-inch claws through the dirt as it evaluated the easiest target.  More than any other creature of the wasteland, the deathclaw was a true monster, a dragon with a demonic anger and an insatiable appetite.

Rose remembered all too well her last encounter with one of these beasts, and that time she had a power armor suit.  She pulled a dose of Psycho out of her back pocket and jammed it into her thigh, hissing through clenched teeth as the drug burned through her veins and sent her adrenaline production into overdrive.  She hated using the stuff, but needed the extra boost if they were going to survive this.

The deathclaw stared her down, probably singling her out as the dominant alpha from her position in front of Hancock and Dogmeat.  She met its gaze unblinkingly and refused to move a step, hard as that was with the Psycho pushing every nerve ending to explode into motion.  The deathclaw would lunge at the first sign of flight, just like any other predator. 

She wasn’t going to win this through sheer courage, though.  Her fingers tightened around her gun, and she wrinkled her nose as the breeze shifted, bringing with it the scent of dried blood and carrion.

Perhaps another impossibly long minute passed, and then one of the settlers who was taking shelter on the roof panicked, firing off a shot.  He missed, but the noise was all that was needed to break the spell; the deathclaw roared, loud enough to make their ears ring, and leapt forward.  It cleared most of the distance in one bound, and Rose found herself quite suddenly staring it in the face.

She ducked and backpedaled, gasping as she felt the swish of claws cutting through the air over her head.  She heard Dogmeat bark; the German Shepherd darted back and forth, nipping at the deathclaw’s leathery hide.  His teeth weren’t long enough or sharp enough to puncture anything, though, and the deathclaw paid him little mind for the time being.  Instead, the monster continued after Rose, snarling angrily when she caught its shoulder with a blast from her shotgun.  It lunged towards her, knocking her flat on her back against the concrete; she stared up in horror as it loomed over her, snarling with blood and drool dripping from its sharp incisors.

“Over here, ugly!” Hancock shouted, diverting its attention.  He fired and caught the same arm Rose had; reptilian blood splattered and the deathclaw howled in pain.

The reprieve was brief, however.  Rose rolled to the side and narrowly avoided getting stomped on as the deathclaw wheeled towards Hancock. He fired a second shot, but the monstrous lizard anticipated it and knocked the gun to the side.  In the same motion, it swept its claws back and struck Hancock across the chest with its forearm, knocking him back into the house.

“John!” Rose cried out.  Hancock fell to his hands and knees, all of the air knocked from his lungs; Dogmeat darted in between them to stand guard over him, growling bravely at the deathclaw as it moved in for a killing strike.

“I don’t think so!” Rose snarled.  She closed the steps between them at a brief run and leapt for the deathclaw’s back, clinging to the large spikes that protruded from its shoulders.  Before the beast could comprehend that it had a human woman scaling its back, she pulled out the knife she kept at her belt and drove all six inches into the space between its injured shoulder and neck.

Even a 10ft behemoth would notice half a foot of metal getting jabbed next to its collarbone.  The deathclaw roared, flailing around as it tried to snag Rose or shake her off.  Luckily, between its injured arm and the structure of its joints, it wasn’t able to reach around to its back, so as long as she could cling to the center of its spine she was safe. 

Riding an angry deathclaw was about as easy as taming a supremely pissed-off, carnivorous bull, though.  She clenched the hilt of the knife with a white-knuckled grip and did her best to keep ahold of the deathclaw’s spikes, but couldn’t free up a hand to get a killing hit in.  In an odd moment of fear-induced clarity, she found herself hoping none of the settlers would try to shoot the thing while she was playing piggyback; they’d just as easily hit her.

Then the deathclaw made the mistake of bending over, in hopes of tossing her over its head.  The moment gave her the stability she needed to yank her knife back out of its flesh; without giving it a chance to straighten, she shoved the blade into the base of its skull, putting all of her weight behind it.  She felt the crack as the blade drove into its spine, and it toppled forward, hitting the ground with a thud like an earthquake.

Not willing to trust that the thing was truly dead, Rose quickly picked up her shotgun and put two rounds into its skull at point-blank range.  Confident that the monster was truly killed, she slung the gun’s strap around her shoulder and dropped to the ground, holding her head between shaking hands as the adrenaline burned through her system.  She jumped a little as Hancock dropped to the cement next to her, and Dogmeat planted himself on her opposite side. 

“You’re _fucking_ insane,” Hancock said, his tone reverent.  “I didn’t just hallucinate that, right?”

Rose groaned, not yet ready to talk.  She could hear the settlers cautiously climbing back down from their vantage point on the roof, all chattering excitedly about what they had just seen.  She was going to become a local legend at this rate.

“Was that me, or did I just see you riding that deathclaw?”

Rose glanced up to see Sturgis standing in front of her, looking pale but with a grin a mile wide on his face.

“Wouldn’t have believed it if I didn’t see it myself,” Hancock replied.  “I think you might just be the first person in history to take out a deathclaw with a knife, Sunshine.”

Rose grumbled something incoherent, but accepted Sturgis’s hand to pull herself to her feet.  “That was easily one of the scariest and stupidest things I’ve ever done in my life.”

“I’m starting to wonder if you even can be killed,” Sturgis remarked, and Rose looked at him darkly.

“Don’t jinx me like that.”  She noticed Hancock holding an arm against his chest, and frowned.  “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, think it’s just some bruised ribs,” he said dismissively, even as he grimaced in pain.  “Mighta cracked one or two.  I’ll be fine.”

“Come on.  Mama Murphy’s got some stimpaks in her stash; that’s a lot closer than heading back to the truck stop.”  She paused and looked back at Sturgis.  “Are you all alright here?”

He nodded.  “Yeah, we’ll clean up.  Might have to look into building another turret on this side… but you two go on ahead.  You’ve earned the rest.”

After making certain that Hancock was resting on Mama Murphy’s couch with a couple of stimpaks at hand, she went to grab Codsworth and the other settlers out of the supply cellar.  Dogmeat followed; the canine favored his front leg paw slightly and had a cut across his snout, but otherwise seemed no worse for wear.  Rose had tried to get him to stay at the house with Hancock, but he stubbornly hadn’t listened, refusing to let her out of his sight.

The settlers all balked when they saw her, and she could understand why; she probably looked like a terror, covered in deathclaw blood and dirt and God knew what else.  She hung back with Mama Murphy while the others cautiously went back to their homes or over to check out the aftermath of the fight.

“Hey Mama, Sturgis was able to hook up running water to your place, right?”

The old lady laughed.  “I take it you’re looking for a shower, kid?  Lord knows you could use it.”

“I can’t argue there.”  She smiled, and added, “By the way, Hancock got slammed pretty hard out there, looks like he hurt a few ribs.  I borrowed a couple of stimpaks from your stash; I hope you don’t mind.  I’ll be sure to bring some over from my own supply before I leave.”

“Ah, don’t worry about it,” Mama Murphy replied with a dismissive hand wave.  “You two need ‘em a lot more than this old bag of bones does.  Take whatever you need; I’ll resupply when the traders come through next.”

“Thanks, Mama.”

* * *

Later, alone in the bathroom, Rose relished the sensation of warm water as she watched all of the dirt and blood rinse off her body and down the drain.  Sturgis, technical genius that he was, had managed to hook up Mama Murphy’s bathroom- one of the few that was mostly intact- to the powered water pump that he had repaired several months ago.  The water pressure wasn’t great and the temperatures could be tricky, but after spending weeks where the only hygienic options were sponge-baths with rags and purified water or risking rads by jumping into the river, it was paradise.

 She scrubbed her hair and skin as clean as she could get them, and tried not to think about how short-lived that feeling would be once they got back on the road.  The warm water worked magic on her tense muscles, and a small moan escaped her as she rubbed her neck and felt the knots there release.

“You’re not having too much fun in there without me, are you?”

Startled, Rose yelped and nearly fell.  She pulled back the curtain and glared at Hancock, who was laughing.

“You scared me!” she said accusingly, before shutting off the water and wrapping herself in a patchwork blanket that served as a towel.  “You should know better than to sneak up on me like that.”

“I figured I’d be safe, what with you naked and distracted.”  He smirked, his dark eyes seeming to grow darker as he admired her form beneath the thin blanket.  “You sure you don’t want me to join you?”

She raised an eyebrow.  “You’re incorrigible.  And I don’t think those stimpaks have already worked their magic on your ribs.”

“What are you talking about?  I’m fine.”

“Really?”  She leaned in close to him and put her arms around his waist, but before he could lean in to kiss her she lightly pressed on his side.  He jumped and cursed, and Rose backed up with a laugh.

“Yes, that definitely seems like you’re totally healed,” she teased.  She softened the jibe with a quick kiss.  “Get yourself cleaned up so we can try to catch a little more sleep before we leave.  We’ve got a long trek ahead of us.”

She changed into jeans, a tank top, and a worn flannel in the spare bedroom that Mama Murphy kept open for traders, while Dogmeat watched her tiredly from the bed.  She had dosed him with half a stimpak as well, and she could already see the cut healing along the top of his nose.  Exhaling slowly, Rose flopped on the bed next to him, rubbing his soft ears as she stared up at the ceiling.

“You think we could get just one day where something crazy doesn’t happen?” she asked him.  Dogmeat whined and halfheartedly wagged his tail, already half-asleep.  “Yeah, guess that would take the fun out of it, wouldn’t it?”

When Hancock came in a few minutes later, both Rose and Dogmeat were passed out on the bed, with the dog’s head protectively across her chest.  He shook his head and chuckled before taking a seat in the chair next to the bed.

“You win this time, pooch.”

Dogmeat huffed, clearly having heard him, and Hancock rolled his eyes before pulling a hit of Jet out of his coat pocket.  Before long the chems helped balance out any lingering adrenaline and eased some of the ache left in his back and chest, and he drifted off along with the other two.


	10. The Harm in Remembering

**(Rose)**

“Are you mad!?”

“At this point, probably.  So what’s the harm, right?”

It took two days for Rose, Hancock, and Dogmeat to get back to Boston.  Rose had radioed ahead to let Nick know they were coming, telling him to meet them at the Old State House in Goodneighbor since Hancock wasn’t welcome in Diamond City.  The detective had been dismayed to hear that Rose hadn’t recovered her son, but was optimistic that the cybernetic implant she had recovered from Kellogg’s head might prove useful.  He suggested that they bring it to Amari in the Memory Den… and her reaction went about as well as could be expected.

Amari held a hand to her head and closed her eyes.  “Rose, I know you have been through more than anyone should have to endure, but you are asking me to defile a body!  And you do realize that the memory simulators require an intact, _living_ brain to function?”

“Well, I mean, technically the body was already defiled,” Rose said, a tad sheepishly.  “Nick says it could work still, right?”

“This brain had inside knowledge of the Institute, Amari,” Nick said.  “You need this, and so do we.  The cybernetics have been keeping the tissue alive, at least.  It’s not a whole brain, but it could be something.”

“What is this?” Amari asked, her scientific curiosity getting the better of her as she took the implant from Rose.  “This is the hippocampus!  I don’t even want to know how you got your hands on it.  And is this a neural interface attached to it?”

“I think so.  Will it work?”

“I’m not sure.  I’ve never done anything like this before.  But some of the circuits look familiar… this is Institute technology, correct?”

Nick nodded.  “Apparently old Kellogg was half-synth himself, with all the tech they stuffed into him.  No wonder he lasted for as long as he did.”

“Hmmm.”  Amari studied the small piece thoughtfully.  “It’s a long shot, but all Institute technology is designed to work together, shares a similar architecture.  We could potentially wire this into Nick’s mainframe… it should be a simple question of plugging it in.”

Rose’s brown creased in concern.  “Isn’t that dangerous?”  She glanced at Nick.  “I can’t ask you to do that if it’s going to mess with your mind.”

“There is a tremendous amount of risk,” Amari admitted.  “We’d be attaching foreign tech to his brain.  I can’t begin to predict what the effects might be.”

“Don’t worry about me, Amari,” Nick said stubbornly.  “Let’s do it.”

Rose opened her mouth to argue, but knew it wouldn’t do any good.  Instead she opted for a shaky smile.  “Thanks, Nick.  You don’t know how much I appreciate this.”

“You can thank me when we’ve got your son back.”  To Amari, he said, “Alright, let’s do this.”

Amari had him sit down on a chair next to the memory pod, and began to tinker with the back of his head.

“If I start cackling like an old, grizzled mercenary, pull me out, alright?”

Rose groaned.  “That’s not funny, Nick.”

“I need you to stay focused, Mr. Valentine,” Amari said.  “Any slight change in your cognitive functions could be dire.  Are you feeling any different?”

Nick frowned.  “There’s a lot of flashes, static.  I can’t make sense of any of it, doc.”

“That’s what I was afraid of.”  The doctor straightened.  “The pneumonic impressions are encoded.  It appears the Institute has one last failsafe.”

“Is Nick gonna be okay?” Rose asked worriedly.

“Yes, Mr. Valentine should be fine.  The connections appear to be stable; hopefully it will be as simple as unplugging the implant once we are done.  But that doesn’t get around our current problem.”  Amari paced for a moment, clearly thinking hard.  “The memory encryption is too strong for a single mind to break on its own… but what if we used two?”

“Excuse me?”

“We can load both you and Mr. Valentine into Memory Loungers, and run your cognitive functions in parallel.  He can act as a host while your consciousness drives through whatever memories we can find.”

“I’m gonna be inside Nick’s mind?”  Rose looked doubtfully at her synth friend.  “I’m not going to see Nick in any, uh… compromising positions, am I?”

“If a smart mouth was all it took to solve problems, we’d have found your son by now,” the detective replied, giving her a wry look.

“The only memories you’ll see are the ones in the implant,” Amari assured them.

“What do you think, Nick?”

“You know I’m game,” he said, giving her a reassuring pat on the shoulder.  “Shifting through Kellogg’s memories is a small price to pay if it means getting your son back.”

Overcome with gratitude, Rose grabbed her friend in a hug.  “I’ll never be able to thank you enough for this, Nick.”

“Anything for a friend,” he said kindly, briefly returning the hug before steering her towards the memory pod.  “I’ll see you on the other side.”

Rose settled into the memory pod, and fought a spike of anxiety as she tried not to remember stepping into her cryo tank.  Dogmeat whined beside her and pawed at the glass, unhappy about being kept out of the pod.  She heard Amari’s voice telling her to relax, and then the outside world blurred away to nothing.

* * *

**(Hancock)**

“Thanks for holding down the fort while I’ve been gone, Fahre.”

The heavily armored woman snorted.  “Yeah.  Took long enough to get your ass out of the picture.”

Hancock chuckled, knowing she was joking.  “Keep talking like that and I’ll think you haven’t missed me.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, did I hurt your feelings, princess?”  Fahrenheit lightly cuffed his shoulder.  “I guess it’s good to see you back.  Gets a little dull here without the resident junkie mayor to liven things up.”  She studied him wryly.  “Though from what I hear, life’s been anything but dull for you lately.”

“Been keepin’ busy enough,” he said noncommittally.  “Actually, you gotta hear about this one thing…”

Hancock’s reply was cut short as the doors to the Memory Den burst open.  They watched as Rose fled like a bat out of hell into the alley on the side of the building, Dogmeat hot on her heels.  A couple of seconds later both Nick Valentine and Doc Amari came out, looking concerned and slightly guilty at the same time.

“Better go find out what’s ailing your little vault-dweller this time,” Fahrenheit said disinterestedly.  “That chick’s been nothing but trouble.”

“Yeah, but she’s my trouble,” Hancock replied, heading across the street to talk with the other two.

“What the hell happened?” he asked Nick.  “I just saw Rose fly out of the Den like she OD’d on Ultra Jet.  What gives?”

“It appears she had a negative reaction to one of Kellogg’s memories,” Amari explained.

“What?!  You mean you two actually let her inside that freakshow’s head?”

“There was no other way to get the information, John,” Nick said gravely.  “Kellogg’s memories were locked down; we needed two minds to break the encryption.”

“So this was _your_ idea?”

“It was mine, actually,” Amari said.  “I warned Rose about the risks beforehand.”

Hancock groaned.  “Yeah, but that don’t mean nothing.  Rose would throw herself in the path of a mini-nuke if she thought it’d get her son back.  Any idea what she saw?”

“She relived the murder of her husband through Kellogg’s eyes,” Nick said, distress heavy in his voice.  “She held it together long enough to find the information we needed, but as soon as Amari woke her up she bolted.”  He looked over to the alleyway.  “If it’s any consolation, I don’t think she’s having a post-traumatic episode… I think she probably just didn’t want us to see her break down.”

“Because that’s so much better.”  Hancock rubbed the back of his neck, uncertain of what to do.  Handling fear was one thing… grief, on the other hand, was something he’d never been good at.

“Look, why don’t you guys go back inside.  I’ll go talk to her,” he said at length.

Nick nodded approvingly.  “If you need us, you know where we’ll be.”

* * *

It was dark enough in the back alley that Hancock wouldn’t have been able to see Rose if she hadn’t moved.  She had wedged herself in the farthest corner, curled up as tightly as she could manage.  Her arms were wrapped tightly around Dogmeat, who solemnly stood vigil beside her.  With her shoulders shaking from barely suppressed sobs, she looked more like a lost little girl than a hero of the Commonwealth.  It was heartbreaking to see.

Hancock walked over and sat down next to her, awkwardly rubbing her back because he couldn’t think of anything else to do.  Rose didn’t acknowledge his presence beyond a startled twitch when she felt him sit beside her.  She cried herself out, her renewed grief pouring through the wounds that had been opened again in the memory simulator.

After what felt like at least an hour, Rose’s sobs had quieted to a low whimpering and the occasional hiccup.

“Nick told me what you saw in there,” Hancock said into the silence, his raspy voice soft.

Rose took a deep breath and uncurled herself, rubbing furiously at her tearstained cheeks.  Dogmeat tried to lick her face but she gently pushed him away.  “I didn’t know it was going to be like that.”

“The memory simulators are pretty impressive,” he said in agreement.  “Never been in one myself, but I’ve been told that it’s like jumping back to the past.”

“You can _feel_ things in there,” she said, staring at her hands like they were no longer hers.  “I thought I’d just be seeing things happen, like in a movie, but it was like I _was_ Kellogg.  I could hear his thoughts, like he was talking to me.  I felt his emotions.  I could feel his finger pull the trigger when he shot Nate.”

“Jesus,” Hancock said, eyes wide. 

“He didn’t feel anything at all when he killed my husband,” she continued in a shaky tone.  “Not anger, not sorrow… nothing.  He shot Nate as easily as he breathed.”

“Spending a lifetime as a scumbag will do that to you.”

“That’s just it, John; he wasn’t always that way,” Rose said.  “I saw memories of his childhood, of his life before he was a mercenary.  I know that he lived in California, that his father was an abusive drunk… I know that at one point he had a wife and a little girl who were killed by his enemies.  I know that he gunned them down for revenge, just like I did.”  She looked up at him, red-rimmed eyes burdened with too much knowledge.  “I know all of these things about Kellogg, and he didn’t know a single damn thing about my life or Nate’s before he destroyed it all.”

“You’re not sayin’ you regret killing him, are you?”

She shook her head.  “No.  It’s just… I never thought I’d be this person.  And now it’s like I _know_ Kellogg, and that makes it worse.  Understanding how he got to be what he was… it’s just adding guilt on top of fucking everything else.”

“Listen to me, Rose,” Hancock said, taking her firmly by the shoulders.  “Don’t you dare go feeling guilty for putting that mercenary fucker down.  He got what was coming to him.”

“Maybe he did, but it doesn’t make being the fucking left hand of God any easier.”  She closed her eyes, weariness etching long lines into her face.  “I just don’t want to feel anymore.  You know?”

He nodded, understanding but not certain of what to say in response.  His reaction to that desire wasn’t something he’d necessarily prescribe to anyone else, least of all Rose.  But after a few seconds she seemed to pull herself together; she passed her hand over her cheeks one more time and got to her feet, pulling him up behind her.

“I saw something about a scientist named Virgil in Kellogg’s memories,” she said, her tone becoming businesslike as she forcibly bottled her emotions.  “Apparently he was able to escape the Institute; he could be our best bet at figuring out how to get inside.  Kellogg was supposed to kill him but thanks to us, he never got the chance.”

“Where’s he hiding?” Hancock asked, trying not to show how grateful he was for the change in subject. 

Rose hesitated, and said, “The Glowing Sea.”

Hancock winced.  “Yikes.  If you ever wanted to go ghoul, that would be a way to do it.”

“I think we can do it, so long as I bring a ton of Rad-X and Rad-Away with us,” she said, though her voice hitched a bit like she wasn’t entirely convinced.  “If that scientist can survive out there, then so can I, right?”

“If you say so, doll.  Just promise me you won’t go dyin’ on me out there.”

She nodded solemnly.  “I won’t let that happen.  I haven’t made it this far to get taken out by a little radiation.”  She paused, and added somewhat haltingly, “Thank you, for checking on me.  And for staying.  I don’t mean to keep dumping all of my baggage on you.”  She combed her fingers through her long hair.  “I know I’m a mess and none of this is easy and that-”

“Don’t mention it, love.”  He curled an arm around her waist and tilted her chin up towards him.  “You know, if you want a distraction for a few hours, I’ve got a couple ideas that are guaranteed to work.”

She blinked, surprised, and slowly a smile began to creep onto her lips.  “Is that so?”

He nodded, and began to walk with her back towards the Old State House.  “Yep.  And I happen to have a pretty big house that we can have all to ourselves.”

“Count me in.”


	11. All Aboard the Railroad

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Noticed that there was kind of a pattern to the smutty scenes in this particular installment, so I changed things up a bit in this chapter. For the better, I think ;).

Rose was wakened the next morning by the sound of Dogmeat’s nails clicking on the wooden floor of the Old State House, where she and Hancock had spent the night.  True to his word, Hancock had treated her to whiskey and Day Tripper to help her forget her troubles; the chem was new to her, and eased the ache in her chest more readily than Jet or Med-X.  Blissed out on a crossfaded high, they had fallen into bed together in the wee hours, and made love until neither of them could keep their eyes open any longer.  Rose felt like she had only fallen asleep minutes ago, though the faint light glowing through her eyelids told her it had been at least a couple of hours.

Before she had even opened her eyes, the German Shepherd leapt nimbly up onto the bed and wormed his way in between the two of them.

“What the hell?” Hancock jerked awake, narrowly catching himself from being shoved to the floor.

Rose laughed as the shepherd cuddled up against her and affectionately licked her face.

“Uh oh, I think someone is jealous,” she said, rubbing his head.  “Do you want me all to yourself, boy?”

Dogmeat huffed in response, tail whipping back and forth.

“That mutt has been traveling with us for weeks, and chooses _now_ to get territorial?” Hancock muttered, less than amused.

Dogmeat turned towards him and gave a light growl.  Rose couldn’t help but smile.

“I think that’s a yes.”  She rubbed the German Shepherd’s belly, making Dogmeat wiggle happily.

She sat up and Dogmeat jumped lightly off the bed, satisfied that he had staked his claim to Rose.  She stretched, reaching her arms overhead, and Hancock gazed openly at her, appreciating the sight of her pale skin and full breasts in the daylight.  She noticed him watching her and blushed self-consciously.

“What is it?”

“Don’t mind me, love,” he replied, his voice at that lower octave that gave her goosebumps.  “Just admiring the view.”

She started to get out of bed and he held her back, pulling her onto his lap.

“Not so fast,” he said, running his hands along her thighs to cup the soft curve of her ass.  “I’m not so sure I don’t just wanna keep you here for the rest of the day.”

She gave him an arch look and kissed him.  “How do you propose to stop me?”

“As mayor, I’m within my rights to place you under house arrest.”  He began to kiss the sensitive area on her neck, just below her jaw.  She shivered, gasping when he nipped lightly at her skin.

“What crime did I commit to deserve such a punishment?” she asked breathlessly, biting her lip as he made his way down to her breasts.

“Lewd behavior,” he replied wryly, voice muffled against her flesh.  Her laugh turned into a startled squeak when he spun her around onto the bed, drawing a path down her stomach as he pressed her legs apart, hooking one calf over his shoulder.

“What’s the duration of my sentence?”  Her voice hitched as he lavished attention on her inner thighs, idly drawing patterns with his lips and tongue.  A low chuckle escaped him as he caught the sight of her fingers digging into the blankets.

“As long as I damn well please.”

He flicked his tongue over her clit then, making her entire body jerk, before setting about his task in earnest.  Her voice came out in a sweet whine as he laved the sensitive little bundle of nerves.  Her legs tensed as she instinctively tried to close them around his head, but he wouldn’t allow it.  He pressed down on one leg, keeping it pinned against the mattress, and anchored the other still more securely over his shoulder.  Her hips bucked against him as she struggled to find more pressure against his mouth.

“John…” she keened breathlessly.

“Mmm, you taste so fuckin’ good, Sunshine,” he said, languidly dragging his tongue across her entire slit and smirking when cried out.  “Could stand down here all damn day…”

“John, _please_ ,” she begged; her words were barely intelligible as he continued to play with her. 

“Well, since you asked so nicely…”

He started to pull himself up, and the second he released his hold on her legs Rose wrapped them around his hips and flipped them over.  She was so wet that he slid inside her in an instant; she swore happily as he filled her, back arching.

Not for the first time, Hancock found himself marveling at his incredible luck.  It was almost enough to make him delirious, the fact that this dangerous, beautiful, and genuinely _good_ woman had chosen him, when she could easily ensnare any man with a pulse.  He’d gladly repeat all of the fuck-ups of his past- well, most of them, anyway- if it meant coming back to this moment.

A few minutes later and they were both sprawled in the post-orgasmic afterglow, breathless and giddy as two goddamned teenagers.  Rose held him against her chest, not seeming to mind his weight as traced the dips and whorls in his scarred skin.  Her eyes were closed, but she wasn’t dozing; he could feel her chest vibrate as she hummed quietly, some tune he couldn’t recognize.

Hancock was just contemplating going for round two when, buried in the pile of hastily discarded clothing from the night before, came the persistent _beep beep_ of the Pip-boy.  Rose’s breath came out in a disgruntled huff, and he shifted to the side so she could respond to whatever new, urgent message had come through.  Most likely it was the Minutemen with another settlement in crisis.

“What now?” she muttered, hanging off the edge of the mattress as she dug through their clothes to find the portable computer.  On the glowing green screen was a message sent from an unnamed terminal, just one sentence with no signature.

“Follow the Freedom Trail?” she read.  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Hancock shrugged and reached for the pack of cigarettes lying nearby the bed.  “You got me, doll.  Who sent it?”

“Doesn’t say.”  She tapped the screen and bit her lip, thinking hard.  “Before the war, there was a tour that went around some historic sites in Boston Common.  I think they called that the Freedom Trail, at least at the time.  I wonder if that’s what this is?”

“Boston Common?”  Hancock pushed himself out of bed and started getting dressed; he could already tell she wasn’t going to let this one go.  “Most people don’t come back from there, Sunshine.”

“You think it’s some kind of trap?”

“I think whoever would want to send you there doesn’t have your best interests at heart.”

“Hmmm.”  She clicked through the settings on the Pip-boy until her map popped up.  “I went on that tour once when I was a teenager.  The last stop was Old North Church… it’s not too far from here, and isn’t so close to the Common to be dangerous.”  She paused, and then amended, “Well, _excessively_ dangerous.”

He rolled his eyes.  “You’re going to make us check it out, aren’t you?”

“It could be a lead on the Institute,” she said, her tone only partially apologetic.  She jumped out of bed and began pulling on her clothes and armor.  “It’s a small detour.  If the place is empty, then we’ve only wasted a couple of hours.”

“Why do I get the feeling we’re going to end up with a bunch of guns in our faces?”

She stole a quick kiss as she reached for her boots.  “We’ll be fine.  If it gets too hot, we’ll back out.  I promise.”

* * *

**(Rose)**

“Stop.  Right.  There.”

Rose flinched as blindingly bright spotlights popped on in front of them.  She could barely make out the silhouettes of three (definitely armed) figures standing before them.

“I seem to remember predicting something just like this earlier this morning,” Hancock muttered to her under his breath.  “To think of all the other things we could be doing…”

“They haven’t shot us yet,” Rose pointed out stubbornly.

“I think the key word there is ‘yet.’”

“You went to a lot of effort to arrange this meeting,” the woman in the middle said, her tone grim.  “But before we go any further, answer my questions.  Who the hell are you?”

“Who the hell are _you_?” Rose asked back.  “We came here because someone sent a message to my Pip-boy telling me to follow the Freedom Trail.”

Now that her eyes had adjusted to the light, Rose could see the three people clearly now.  A dark woman with shockingly white hair stood to the left, a hulking mini-gun in her grip.  To the right stood a nondescript man with short dark hair and sunglasses.  The woman in the center had a palpable in-charge air about her, and she was frowning.

“In a world full of suspicion, treachery, and hunters, we’re the synths’ only friends.  We’re the Railroad,” she explained, reciting the lines as though she had said them many times before.  Rose heard Hancock make a small noise of recognition, but didn’t react to it.

“You made the passcode for your hideout the same name as your organization?” Rose asked dubiously.

“Most people don’t make it this far.  What do you mean you received a message?” the woman asked suspiciously.

“That would have been me, Dez,” the man to her right piped up.  To Rose, he said, “Glad to see that you figured it out!  I was hoping you would.”

“Care to explain, Deacon?”

“Newsflash, boss:  this lady’s _kind of_ a big deal out in the Commonwealth,” he said.  “I’ve been following the gossip around her for a while.  She’s the one who reinstated the Minutemen, and rumor has it she took out Kellogg too.  The Railroad owes her a crate, hell, a truckload of Nuka-Cola for taking care of him for us.”

“You killed Kellogg?” the woman asked in disbelief.  “If that’s true, then you’ve helped us a great deal.”

“She’s definitely someone we want on our side, Dez,” Deacon continued.  “Extra perks for bringing in Mayor Hancock there, too.”

Rose glanced at her companion.  “You know these guys?”

“I’ve heard a thing or two, yeah,” he confirmed.  “They’ve got something going on with the Memory Den.  I made a point never to pry into it.”

“Hancock turning a blind eye to our activities has made our operation a lot easier to maintain,” Deacon explained.  “I had some sources keep an eye on you, and when I found out you were in Goodneighbor, I had one of our techs track down your Pip-boy’s frequency to send you a little invite.”

“So you’re vouching for her?” the woman asked.  Deacon nodded.  “That changes things.”  To Rose and Hancock, she said, “I am Desdemona, leader of the Railroad.  This is Deacon, and this is one of our heavies, Glory.”

“It’d be a lot more welcoming without that mini-gun pointed at our heads,” Hancock remarked.

“You’ll have to forgive our caution,” Desdemona said, gesturing to Glory to lower the weapon.  “The Institute is a dangerous and crafty enemy.  We cannot afford to be too careful.”

“So you’re after the Institute too?” Rose asked.  “So what do you want from us, exactly?”


	12. Trouble with the Brotherhood

“Just once, I’d like to have someone offer to help without needing an entire fucking quest in return,” Rose grumbled.

The Railroad had indeed been willing to help her find a way to infiltrate the Institute… but only if she agreed to help them find a way to free the synths still enslaved there.  Rose hadn’t objected in the slightest; her friendship with Nick Valentine had more than convinced her that synths were thinking, feeling individuals who deserved the same rights and freedom as everyone else.  Rather, her frustration stemmed from the amount of work and time the secretive group was asking of her. 

In spite of Deacon’s confidence, Desdemona still insisted on a sort of test run to prove their loyalty.  She had sent the three of them- Rose, Hancock, and Dogmeat- out with Deacon to a place called the Switchboard, which was the old Railroad headquarters before it became overrun with enemy synths.  They had recovered a prototype there for Doc Carrington, the Railroad’s resident physician, with little trouble; the place was manned by nothing but Gen 1’s, which were a piece of cake after taking on Kellogg’s fortress.

Their success helped to initiate them into the shadowy organization, but Desdemona was nothing if not thorough.  She immediately sent the group out to check on a safehouse upon their return; no one had heard from the agents there in a while, and there was concern that it had been lost to the Institute.  The safehouse in question was beneath a warehouse located in Cambridge, near the riverfront.  Deacon had stayed behind for this second mission, claiming his talents were needed elsewhere, but Rose didn’t mind; it meant she could complain openly about their new “friends.”

“Ordinarily, I’d agree with ya,” Hancock said in response to her grousing, as they cautiously navigated through the empty streets.  “The Railroad’s one of the few outfits with an actually commendable cause, though.  If we have to kiss anyone’s ass to help get your kid back, might as well be them.”

Rose sighed.  “I suppose you’re right.”

They had reached the riverfront.  Rose swept her eyes up and down the line of old warehouses, pubs, and office buildings, searching for the telltale rail signs that would help identify the safehouse.  She spotted a sun-like shape with an arrow in the middle pointing to the west painted on a bench facing the water; there was only one warehouse in that direction, so she knew that had to be what they were looking for.

Dogmeat went ahead of them, sniffing intently at the ground with his ears pricked for any sign of danger.  No traps went off and the air wasn’t filled with the glow of laser beams as he approached the door, which was an encouraging sign.  If the Institute had been present, the synths would definitely have reacted to three unknown travelers strolling up to the building.

However, if there had ever been a safehouse situated in that basement, it was long gone.  They had found nothing but a few smashed terminals, empty boxes of ammo, and a couple of abandoned cots.  There were no signs of a struggle, which meant that either the agent running the safehouse had been spooked by the Institute and lit out before they could be discovered, or that the Institute had successfully infiltrated them and had recovered the synths before shutting down the operation.  Unfortunately, the Railroad would have no way of knowing unless the agent decided to make contact.  Desdemona wasn’t going to be happy.  As they ascended back to the ground floor Rose could already hear her voice barking out orders to find out what happened.

“Freeze, civilians!” 

 _That_ voice, however, was male, and did not sound particularly friendly.  Both Rose and Hancock did the opposite, diving for cover as the loud command echoed through the empty building.  Rose heard the unmistakable hum of laser rifles powering up, but that hadn’t sounded like the flat, emotionless tone of a Gen 1or 2 synth, or a Courser.  She peeked around the crates they had hidden behind and was hit by an immediate flare of annoyance and concern.  Three soldier types were standing near the entrance, rifles trained on their general location; one of them was wearing a formidable set of power armor.  The sight clicked with the tone of the command, and Rose audibly groaned as she realized who they were dealing with. 

“Is that who I think it is?” Hancock asked, reading the recognition on her face.  “What’s the Brotherhood of Steel want with this place?”

“Come out slowly and you won’t be harmed,” the soldier in the power armor ordered.  Rose knew by the slightly tinny (but strongly masculine) voice that it was Paladin Danse.  They had helped Danse and what was left of his unit fight off an onslaught of hungry ferals once; the encounter hadn’t ended well.  Rather than express gratitude, the paladin had attacked Hancock’s character, fueled by ignorance and the prejudice the Brotherhood fostered against anyone not considered traditionally human.  Rose had torn him a new one for being such an ass, so Danse wasn’t likely to have any warm feelings left over for the two of them.

Beside them, Dogmeat growled, and unexpectedly lunged out towards the cautiously approaching soldiers.  Rose cursed and flung herself after him, narrowly catching the chain that served as a collar.  She tugged him back with one hand and frantically threw up the other in a harried gesture of peace.

“Don’t shoot!  He’s just protecting us, I’ve got him!”

“You would be the one to get yourself shot for a mutt,” Hancock muttered in disbelief, coming out next to her to help rein in Dogmeat.

“Control your animal, civilians, or we will be forced to put it down,” Danse said sternly. 

Rose gave him a scathing look.  “Give me a break.  You came at us with guns first.  And if you so much as step on his paw…”

Danse paused and stared at her, cocking his helmeted head.  “Wait… I remember you two.  You assisted with the ghoul attack some weeks back.”

“Great way to pay us back, holding us at gunpoint,” Hancock observed dryly.

“I’d watch what you say if I were you, degenerate,” one of the other soldiers, a man with a shaved head, snapped.

“The Brotherhood killin’ people for pointing out the obvious now?”

Rose stepped in.  “How about we avoid the fighting for once?”  She stood with her hand still on Dogmeat’s chain, and faced Danse squarely.  “He has a point, though, Danse.  We helped you once.  What’s with the hostility?  We haven’t done anything to you or to the Brotherhood.”

“As it happens, we’re on orders to investigate the area,” Danse replied, a tinge of anger in his words.  “There’s been a lot of odd radio activity in area, and movement that doesn’t seem related to supermutants or any of the raider gangs.”  He stared at her for a moment longer; it was impossible to tell what he was thinking beneath the power armor helmet. 

“I’ve heard rumors about a woman and a ghoul who’ve been making waves in the Commonwealth,” he said at length.  “Given that, it seems like more than coincidence that we’d find you back in this area again.  I think it’s best if you come with us to answer a few questions.”

Hancock made a low hum of disapproval, and Rose grimaced.

“Are we under arrest?”

Rose’s question had been sarcastic, but Danse took it literally.  “Look at it this way… you can cooperate, and there’s no need for violence.”

Outside, a rumble of thunder shuddered through the air.  Rose shifted her gaze out the open warehouse door and could see the yellow-green clouds of a radiation storm moving in swiftly, the occasional lightning bolt illuminating the citrine haze.

“And seeing as a rad storm is on its way, I’m betting you two could use a place to ride out the weather,” Danse continued, his tone self-satisfied.  “Well, one of you, anyway.”

Hancock rolled his eyes at the veiled insult in the paladin’s words, but didn’t rise to the bait.  Rose held her tongue as well, though her jaw was clenched in frustration.  The last thing she wanted was to waste hours- or even the rest of the night, depending on the storm- sitting pretty with the Brotherhood of Steel.  But the other soldiers had yet to lower their weapons, and she knew from living with her father and Nate that cooperating with a military organization would keep them alive much longer.  If they refused, Danse would likely feel the need to assert his authority.  Not to mention that their refusal would make him more interested in why they were poking around in the basement of a supposedly abandoned warehouse.

She glanced up at Hancock and could tell by his frown that he had reached the same conclusion she had.  Exhaling slowly, she slung her shotgun across her back, and raised her open palms.  Hancock reluctantly did the same, and she breathed a silent sigh of relief when the unit finally lowered their barrels to the floor.

“You sure about this, doll?” Hancock asked quietly, as Danse beckoned for them to come forward.

“No,” Rose admitted.  “Not much of a choice, though.  I’ll think of something.”

“There’ll be more than enough time for talk once we get back to the precinct,” Danse cut in.  “Move out.”

Danse and his soldiers were reasonably well-behaved on the long walk back to the run-down police station, but it was painfully obvious who they were taking to be the bigger threat.  Rose walked for the most part uninhibited by Danse’s side, flanked only by Dogmeat and the paladin himself.  The other two soldiers were tight on Hancock, their hands resting on the butts of their weapons and their gazes tense with distaste.  Rose found their blatant racism infuriating.  The Brotherhood believed ghouls to be little better than the other monsters of the Commonwealth, thinking them naturally inclined towards violence and criminal behavior.  The prejudice went so deep that Danse had wholeheartedly taken Rose to be Hancock’s unwilling captive when they had worked together to save him from being eaten alive by the ferals.

As they walked, they passed by the dilapidated bar that Rose and Hancock had once used for shelter.  Rose felt herself automatically flush as the memory of her disastrous first attempt to seduce Hancock rose to the forefront of her thoughts.  Hancock caught the line of her gaze as they walked and smirked; with a quick shake of his head, he put an arm around her waist and brought her hand quickly to his thin lips.  Each soldier, Danse included, tensed at the sight, like he had gone to slit her throat rather than show affection.  Rose gave Danse a withering look while furtively pinching Hancock’s side; she knew he had done that to get a reaction out of their escorts as much as share the memory with her.  He didn’t flinch, but she could feel him silently chuckling. 

It was going to be a _long_ evening.


	13. The Precinct

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For whatever reason I found this chapter difficult to write, and I'm still not 100% satisfied with it... so I may come back and make edits later. Hopefully it's alright for now though.
> 
> I know this chapter (and probably the next too) aren't super interesting, but they're kinda necessary for my plot development. Apologies if you find them boring :(. I promise the action picks up again soon.

**(Rose)**

They made it to the precinct just as the storm hit.  Mustard-yellow fog crept through the air all the way up to the door, and Rose shuddered as she felt the rads sink in through her clothes and light armor.  Radiation was warm, and to her the irradiated fog always felt like hands clutching at her limbs.

Once inside the precinct, Danse removed his helmet; in a moment of foolishness Rose felt startled that he actually had a real face underneath it.  That was quickly replaced by a greater shock when he turned back to face them, and she got a good look at his features.

“Oh my god,” she murmured, eyes wide. 

He looked so much like Nate that it was uncanny.  Clean-cut dark hair, with tanned skin and almond-shaped brown eyes.  Nate had somewhat thinner lips and his nose had been slightly crooked where it had once been broken, but aside from these differences she felt like she could have been looking at his brother.  The military bearing only strengthened the resemblance.

Danse didn’t miss her awed look, and frowned.  “Is there a problem?”

She shook her head too quickly.  “No, no, it’s nothing.”  She saw Hancock studying her with his brow furrowed, and she silently mouthed “Later” to him.

 Danse arched an eyebrow, but mercifully didn’t push the issue.  He motioned to one of the soldiers.

“Scribe Haylen, take our… guests, for a dose of Rad-Away,” he instructed.  “I know we weren’t in the storm long, but we can’t take any chances.  I’ll be in shortly.”  He turned to the male soldier.  “Rhys, check our perimeter.  Make sure nothing slipped in while we were out.”

The team disbursed.  Rose, Hancock, and Dogmeat followed the jumpsuit-clad woman through a couple of doors into what appeared to be, ironically, an interrogation room.  It looked to have been transformed into a makeshift med bay; the table was covered in a variety of bandages, metal instruments, alcohol, and medicine.  She moved immediately to the table and began prepping two bags of the yellow medicine.

“So that’s two doses, yes?” she asked Rose as she worked.  “One for you, and one for the dog.  It’s my understanding that ghouls aren’t affected by the radiation the way the rest of us are.”

“Yeah, I’ll be just fine, thanks,” Hancock replied, seeming a little surprised by the lack of venom in her tone.

“Useful trait, that.  Can you sit down?” Haylen asked Rose.  “It’s easier to do this when you’re not standing.”

“You don’t have to help us,” Rose replied, picking up on the scribe’s tension.  “It’s not like we have a personal doctor to administer the stuff when we’re on the road.”

“Suit yourself.” 

Haylen handed the IV bags over and moved off to the side, scribbling in a worn notebook that she had pulled out of a pocket.  Thankful that she wasn’t going to hover over them, Rose handed one of the bags over to Hancock and patiently held out her forearm.  She did fine dosing herself with chems and stimpaks, which could usually go into the thigh or bicep with little trouble, but Rad-Away actually needed to be fed through a vein.  Hancock had enough experience to be able to inject the drug with minimal pain, and he usually could find her vein in the first try… Rose always left herself black-and-blue when she tried to do it on her own.  She injected Dogmeat herself though; he had a bad habit of snapping if anyone but her tried to stick a needle into him.

“Hey,” Haylen said after a moment, looking a little awkward.  “I remember you guys helping us out with those ferals.  I know that the paladin didn’t really say it at the time, but thank you.  Seriously.  He can take on a lot of enemies at once in that power armor, but with Rhys injured the way he was I had been positive we weren’t going to make it through that.”

“Thank her,” Hancock said.  “She was the one who picked up your distress signal and insisted that we come investigate.”

“Regardless, you both risked your lives to help strangers,” Haylen said.  “I know that people serving in the Brotherhood don’t always communicate that well where gratitude and emotions are concerned, so just know that we are glad you helped us out.”  Her gaze flickered over to the doorway, and she abruptly stood at attention.  “Paladin Danse, sir.”

“At ease, Haylen.”  Outside of his power armor, Danse moved surprisingly quietly; Rose hadn’t noticed him enter.  He was dressed in a similar jumpsuit to Haylen’s, only his was black instead of orange.  Rose offered a brief, silent prayer of thanks that he wasn’t dressed in military fatigues; keeping her mind off of Nate was going to be difficult enough without Danse dressing like him, too.

“If you three are squared away, you can follow me,” he said, a bit stiffly.  “This room’s a little small for so many people.”

He led the three travelers out into a room to the right of the entrance that was set up with a table and several chairs.  Rose noticed that he took the seat that was positioned kitty-corner to the front door, which allowed him to not only make sure no uninvited visitors tried to break in, but to keep an eye equally on her, Hancock, and Dogmeat as well.

“So what exactly are you two doing in the Cambridge area?” Danse asked, getting right to the point.

“Traveling on our way to Goodneighbor,” Rose supplied shortly.  She was determined to give him as little information as possible.

“Why were you in that warehouse?”

“Looking for salvage, obviously.  Anything we can sell or use ourselves.”

Danse frowned.  “You didn’t appear to be carrying anything when you came up out of the basement.”

Hancock shrugged.  “Not a whole lot to find.  Place was pretty cleared out.”

“I see.”  Danse’s tone was unconvinced.  “And what’s your business in Goodneighbor?”

Hancock smirked.  “Well, after kidnapping her and faithful pooch, I decided that I could probably find another no-good lowlife to sell her off to… she’d get me two, three hundred caps, easy.”

Rose lightly kicked him.  “Really?  Three hundred caps?”

“People aren’t made of money, doll.”  He chuckled as she kicked him again.

“You’re going to pay for that later.”

“I look forward to it.”  He winked and put an arm around her shoulder, lightly brushing his thumb over her lips.

Rose dropped her forehead into her palm.  “You’re impossible.”

Danse cleared his throat, frowning.  “From what I hear,” he said, “our scouts have caught local militia who call themselves the Minutemen referring to a red-haired woman traveling with a dog and a ghoul as ‘General.’  I take it that would be you.”

Rose shrugged casually.  “What’s your point?”

“What is the goal of these Minutemen?  They sound military, but don’t appear to have that kind of organization.”

“Just to help protect the Commonwealth,” she said.  “I agreed to help them rebuild their numbers so that settlements can work together to stand up to raiders, supermutants, whatever, and so they call me General.  If you’re worried about us being a threat to the Brotherhood, don’t be.  The Minutemen could care less what you do so long as you don’t try to harm or steal from innocents.”

“I’ve also heard rumors that you’re involved with a group who call themselves the Railroad.  Is that true?”

Rose felt a spike of tension go through her body, but outwardly forced herself to remain casual.  Had those rumors really spread so quickly?  Both Deacon and Desdemona had warned them that the Brotherhood disapproved of the Railroad’s quest; the Brotherhood saw synths as dangerous at best, and thoughtless machines at worst.  They were interested in the advanced technology that made synths- particularly Gen 3’s- possible, but believed that synths and the people who created them could not be trusted, and were best exterminated.

“We’ve heard about them, but haven’t actually met anyone who claims to be a member,” she said after a second, praying he didn’t pick up on her brief hesitation.

“Evidently that warehouse you two were poking around in is supposed to be one of their safehouses.”

 _Fuck_.  “Is that so?”

“No wonder we found so many busted terminals down in that basement,” Hancock said, playing along.  “Thought that was sorta odd.”

“So you had no idea that you were in Railroad territory?” Danse asked disbelievingly.

“None at all.”  Rose’s gaze narrowed.  “Is that what this is all about?  You’re looking for leads on how to find the Railroad?”

“We’re looking for intel on potential allies in the Commonwealth… and potential enemies as well.”

“Well if either of us were intent on doing you harm, we would’ve left you to die when you were overrun with ferals,” she replied sharply.  “Though if you keep wasting my time, I might end up reevaluating that decision.”

She stood as though to leave, and so did Danse.  “If you weren’t running a mission for the Railroad, then what is so urgent?” he asked, tone challenging.  “I know you aren’t telling the whole truth.”

Rose hesitated, looking over at Hancock as she tried to decide how much to tell the paladin.  Hancock’s brow was creased, but he gave her a small nod.  She sighed.

“I’m trying to find a way into the Institute,” she said reluctantly.  “They kidnapped my son.  We have may have a lead on how to find them, but I have to find the guy before they do or they’ll kill him.”

Danse seemed surprised, and awkwardness passed briefly over his features.  “I’m sorry to hear that,” he said, and actually sounded genuine.  “The Institute has caused a lot of problems for the Brotherhood as well.  Why didn’t you say so from the start?  We can help you.”

Rose crossed her arms.  “If I wanted your help, I’d have asked for it.”

“Where is your lead really located?” he asked, not dissuaded. 

“The Glowing Sea.”

“You’ll get irradiated to death out there.”  His eyes flickered briefly to Hancock, and his lip twitched as though fighting back a sneer.  “Or one of you will, at least.”

“We have a plan for that.”

“Look, let me help you,” Danse insisted.  “I’d be lying if I said I believed every word of your story, because I don’t.  But if you’re truly not out to cause trouble for the Brotherhood, then working together can be beneficial for both of us.  And at any rate I still need to pay you back for that assist with the ferals.”

Rose’s jaw clenched, gritting her teeth.  She didn’t trust the paladin farther than she could throw him, though she knew his power armor would be a valuable asset on an excursion that dangerous.  She looked him over, reflecting once again on how much he resembled her late husband.  Hancock got to his feet and reached out, touching her elbow.

“You know that I _really_ hate sayin’ this,” he said in a low voice, speaking into her ear.  “But the more help we get goin’ into the Glowing Sea, the better.  And letting him keep the ferals and whatever else off our backs could convince him to trust us enough to keep his superiors off our case.”  He glanced over at Danse, his dark eyes evaluating the soldier.  “No promises that I don’t end up shooting him in his sleep, though.”

“Fine,” Rose said, voice coming out in a huff.  “I guess we can use an extra gun.  If either of you refuse to behave, however-” she addressed both men, “- then I have no problem kneecapping both of you and leaving you as bait for the next deathclaw that comes wandering around.”

Hancock smirked.  “When don’t I behave myself?”

Danse’s expression was grave, but he nodded.  “When do we leave?”


	14. Supermutant Scientist

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My apologies in advance for the dialogue rewriting from the game. Necessary plot tool. Though I did leave out Virgil's explanation of what needs to be done to get into the Institute... I figure you guys all know the ins and outs of how to make that happen by now, so I can safely gloss over it without leaving anyone confused or messing up my story structure.

It almost would have been worth the extra danger to leave Danse back at the precinct.  His power armor had been hugely helpful in fending off the abundance of ferals and radscorpions that inhabited the Glowing Sea, but the tension between him and Hancock was enough to make Rose want to skip the Rad-Away and let the atmosphere poison her to death. 

The two of them hadn’t stopped taking shots at each other since they left; Rose felt like she was babysitting two teenagers rather than traveling with adult men.  She didn’t even have Dogmeat with her to distract from their bickering; they had resupplied in Goodneighbor before departing (which Danse complained about the entire time), and then she had dropped the German Shepherd off in Diamond City with Piper and Nick.  She couldn’t afford to spend any medicine on detoxing both Dogmeat and herself.  His frantic, confused barks as she left him behind wrung her heart, and put her in a decidedly terrible mood.

It was slow going, making their way through the Sea… which really wasn’t a body of water at all, just a huge, hyper-irradiated area that had been ground zero for one of the bombs.  They had to stop every couple of hours so that Rose could take another dose of Rad-Away.  Danse had his armor rigged to automatically dose him whenever his levels got too high, but sadly Rose’s Pip-boy had no such feature.  It was time-consuming and made all of them antsy; the Sea was so full of hungry, angry creatures that staying in one place for more than a couple of minutes was a huge risk.  But it was better than the alternative, which was for her to become so sick so rapidly that she would either go ghoul, go feral, or die.

To help protect against the radiation, Rose had traded her clothes out for a vault suit that she had grabbed from Deacon a while back.  It had been no trouble for him to find one for her, once she had an idea of where they were going.  She hated being back in the bright blue fabric; it made too easy of a target, standing out particularly well against the yellowed atmosphere of the Sea.  But it was more insulated against radiation than jeans and a shirt, and was thin enough not to add any extra heat to the already warm rads that permeated the air. 

Hancock, on the other hand, approved thoroughly of her change into the form-fitting suit, and took every opportunity to tell her so… especially when there was a chance of making Danse feel uncomfortable.  For the paladin, Hancock was still somewhere between an animal and a criminal, and he struggled with understanding how a relationship between the ghoul mayor and a woman like Rose was possible.

“We have to be almost there,” Rose said, shifting uncomfortably as she poured more Rad-Away into her veins.  “Being out here is worse than having morning sickness.”

“I wouldn’t know,” Danse replied humorlessly, head on a swivel as he kept an eye out for any oversized critters.  “Do you have that okay?”

“Yeah, it’s just easier when Hancock does it.”  She pulled the needle out of her arm and flexed, wincing as the sore muscles protested.  Hancock was currently down in the crater beneath them, trying to get information out of some cultists who called themselves the Children of Atom.  Rose had stayed behind- the rads were too intense for her to join him safely- and Danse had stayed with her to watch her back while she used the break to detox again.  Her eyes were locked on Hancock’s red coat, easily visible against the jaundiced landscape.  It seemed that he was successful in getting the Children of Atom to talk to him – or not kill him, at least – but Rose was still wary, ready to jump in at the first sign of trouble.

“You shouldn’t be throwing your life away with a junkie like that,” Danse remarked, obviously noting the focus of her attention.  “From what I can tell, you seem like a smart, capable woman.  Someone like that is only going to bring you down.”

“Do you remember what happened the last time you insulted Hancock to my face?” she asked lightly.

Danse shifted, moving his weight from one foot to the other.  “I’m just not someone who likes to see wasted potential, that’s all.”

Rose snorted.  “Trust me, this wasteland is bringing out more of my ‘potential’ than I ever thought was possible.  I’ll be fine.”

Danse was quiet for another moment, and then asked, “Do you mind if I ask you a personal question?”

Rose loosely threw her palm up.  “So long as it’s not another question about my relationship with John, then shoot.”

“Back at the precinct, when I first took my helmet off, you looked like you’d seen a ghost.  Why is that?”

Rose chewed on her bottom lip, considering her words for a beat before answering.  “You look a lot like my late husband,” she confessed at length.  “It took me by surprise, is all.”

“You were married?”  Danse hummed thoughtfully.  “That’s not an institution too many bother with nowadays.”

“Yeah, I’ve noticed that.”  Her gaze flicked up to him.  “Anyway, you two look a lot alike.  And he was military too, so that doesn’t help.”

“He died in the line of duty?”

“Would’ve been better if he had,” Rose replied, her voice falling to a murmur.  “No, he was murdered by the same bastard who took my son.  We killed him, though.”

The admission came out almost like an afterthought.  Killing Kellogg hadn’t given her the long-term satisfaction she had been hoping for… though she had some measure of closure, she supposed.  She heard the creak of Danse’s power armor moving beside her, and twitched in surprise when she felt the weight of his metal hand resting on her shoulder.

“I’m sorry for your loss,” he said quietly.  “I understand having anger like that.  It isn’t an easy burden to bear.”

“Uh… thanks.”

She stood there wordlessly for another couple of minutes, unsure of what to say.  Danse showing a human side wasn’t something she had expected, though it did make him much easier to tolerate.  She was relieved when she saw Hancock head back up the hill, all limbs and extremities still fully intact.

“Charming bunch of folks, those Children of Atom,” he said ironically upon his approach.  “Tried to convince me that as a ghoul it was my responsibility to serve the great Atom in thanks for sparing my life.”

He paused, black eyes flickering questioningly from Rose to Danse’s hand, which was still on her shoulder.  She raised her eyes briefly to the sky and shrugged herself free.

“Did they say anything about Virgil?”

“Said there’s a cave not far from here where he’s hiding out,” Hancock said, drawing Rose possessively to his side as they began walking once more.  “We just have to be able to spot it.”

He took her arm as he spoke and inspected the crook of her elbow, gently rubbing the dark bruise that was forming there from all of the Rad-Away injections.

“You want a hit from a stimpak for that, doll?” he asked.

Rose shook her head.  “No, we should save those for something more serious.  I’ll be fine.”  She smiled wanly.  “We’ll just use the other arm on the way back.”

He nodded, and lifted her wrist to check the reading for her radiation levels on her Pip-boy.  He had kept a careful eye on it during the entire trip; despite his jokes about her becoming a ghoul like him, Rose knew he was worried.  Crunching on Rad-X like candies and putting more Rad-Away than actual blood through her veins had kept her levels close to nil, but all it would take was a few extra minutes for an overdose of rads to build up in her system, and then they would be in trouble.

“Making friends with the paladin, huh?” Hancock asked in a low voice as they walked.  They were a few feet ahead of Danse, and safely out of earshot.

“Is that jealousy I hear?” Rose replied, a hint of a coy grin on her face.

A slightly sullen cast passed over his features.  “I didn’t say that.”

She moved closer and rested her head against his shoulder.  “I’m only teasing, John.  He asked me about Nate and was expressing his condolences.”

“Huh.” His response was non-committal, but she felt his shoulders drop.

_Men.  Even after the apocalypse, they’re all the same._

They reached the top of the hill they had been climbing, and Rose uttered an excited exclamation when she spotted the dark maw of a cave about two hundred yards down.

“That’s got to be it!” she said.  “God, I hope that’s it.”

Off in the distance, they could hear the telltale rumbling snarl that said at least one deathclaw was nearby.  Danse readied his laser rifle, but Rose put a hand on the barrel and lowered it back to the ground.

“We are _not_ going looking for that damn thing if we don’t have to,” she said.

“If it’s close enough to pick up our scent and ambush us-”

“Danse, I have fought way too many deathclaws for one lifetime.  If we’re quiet and careful, we’ll be fine.”  She looked him briefly up and down.  “Though if it does come looking, you are more than welcome to have first dibs in that power armor.  I’ve already crossed ‘kill a deathclaw with no armor’ off of my bucket list.”

She started down the hill, and Danse glanced at Hancock, who was chuckling to himself.

“Is she serious?”

“Oh yeah.”  Hancock nodded.  “I saw the whole thing.  So do yourself a favor and try not to ever piss her off too bad.”

They made it into the cave without incident, though Rose nearly had a heart attack when she found herself face-to-barrel with two machine gun turrets.  For whatever reason they didn’t seem programmed to shoot at any of them, though, so they continued to move forward with caution.  Not wanting to startle the scientist, Rose purposefully jangled the tin cans he had rigged by the entrance.

“Hello?” she called out as they walked further into the cave.  “Is there anyone here?”

“Hold it!” a gruff voice responded.  “Take it nice and slow.  No sudden moves.”

A massive figure came around the corner, and with a jolt Rose realized it was a supermutant.  The oddly patched equipment hanging around his shoulders and modified eyeglasses clued her in that this was Brian Virgil.  Danse, however, wasted no time with being observant.

“Watch it!” he shouted to Rose, shoving her aside. 

“Stop!”  She lunged for him and knocked the barrel of his rifle upwards, so that the laser beams harmlessly hit the stone ceiling.  “Cease fire, dammit!  That’s Virgil!”

The supermutant scientist was understandably alarmed and had reached for what looked like a plasma grenade.  Rose hastily put up her hands in a peace-making gesture, stepping in between him and the paladin.

“Sorry, sorry!” she said quickly.  “No harm meant, Virgil, I swear.  My friend here is just an overzealous idiot.”

“You can say that again,” Hancock muttered.

“That _thing_ will rip you to shreds!” Danse objected.

“Does it _look_ like he’s trying to tear my arms off?” she demanded through clenched teeth.  She looked at Virgil, who was clearly torn between attacking them and trusting her.  “You’re Brian Virgil, right?  Can we trust you not to do anything that will get us all killed?”

“That depends,” he replied warily.  “I know you’re with the Institute.  Where’s Kellogg, huh?  Trying to sneak up on me while you have me distracted?  I’m not stupid; I knew they’d send him after me!”

“Not unless the Institute can bring people back to life… which hopefully they haven’t mastered at this point,” Hancock replied sardonically.

“What?”  Virgil’s brow furrowed.  “Kellogg’s dead?  How is that possible?”

“You shot anyone in the head with a shotgun enough times, eventually they’re not going to get back up again,” Rose explained, her tone wry.  “The Institute is no more a friend to me than they are to you.  We’re just here to talk.”

Virgil’s expression remained skeptical, but Rose saw his shoulders relax a bit.  “Fine.  Then talk, fast.”

“We’re looking for information on the Institute,” Rose said.  “Why did you leave?  I know you came from there.”

Virgil looked taken aback.  “You know about the escape?!  But how?”  Then he shook his head.  “No, it doesn’t matter.  I’m not going back… I can’t go back.  Look at me!”

“Kinda hard not to.”  Rose not-so-discreetly stomped on Hancock’s boot at the comment.

“Can you not?” she growled, her voice low through clenched teeth.

“Why are you even here?” Virgil demanded.  “What do you want?”

“I want to get inside the Institute,” Rose replied, turning back to the supermutant scientist.

“ _You_ want to get inside the Institute?  Are you insane?”  Virgil rolled his beady eyes.  “Never mind how nearly impossible that is; even if you were to succeed it’d almost certainly end in your immediate death.”  His tone turned condescending.  “What reason could you possibly have for taking that kind of risk?”

“I’m trying to find my son.  The Institute kidnapped him.”

“Oh.  Oh, no.”  Virgil’s condescension was replaced by a very human sympathy that didn’t seem natural on a supermutant’s features.  “I had no idea.  I’m sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it.”  She had said those lines so often that they were starting to lose their emotional significance… she barely felt a twinge of anger.  Instead, she found herself simply anxious to move forward.

“The Institute has taken people from the Commonwealth in the past… if your son is one of them, I can see why you’d want to get in there.”  Virgil thought for a moment.  “I can help… but I’m going to need something in return.”

“I could have guessed as much,” Rose said resignedly.  “You help me, and I’ll help you.  I swear it.”

“Alright.”  Virgil walked over to a battered table and began shuffling through some papers.  “Before I was forced to leave, I was working on a serum to reverse this mutation.  It could return me to normal, you understand?  So if you can get in there, I need you to find this serum and bring it back to me.”

“You can reverse the supermutant virus?” Danse asked doubtfully.

Virgil turned to him.  “You… you’re with the Brotherhood of Steel, aren’t you?  I recognize that insignia on your armor.”

Danse shifted, drawing back his shoulders proudly.  “That’s correct.”

“From what I hear, the Brotherhood is focused on helping humanity and killing pretty much anything else that gets in their way.”

“They’re not overly fond of anyone too green or too scarred,” Hancock said acidly.  Danse didn’t bother contradicting him; it was true, after all.

“I don’t need a battalion of soldiers knocking down my door to try and force me to work with them,” Virgil said sternly.  “My serum can cure my specific strain of the virus, for now.  In time I can develop a generalized formula.  If you can give me your word that you won’t report my location to your superiors and leave me to work in peace, I promise I will deliver the cure to your people, once it is finished.”

“Why would you do that?” Danse asked suspiciously.

“The Brotherhood would have the mobility and the manpower to distribute the cure on a widespread scale,” Virgil explained.  “I don’t want supermutants to keep infesting the Commonwealth any more than anyone else.  Since I no longer have the resources of the Institute at my back, your organization would be the next best thing to ensure my cure reaches as far as possible.”

Danse thought about it for a long moment, but ultimately agreed.  “Fair enough.”

“Great, now that we’ve all agreed that we’re friends and no one’s out to kill anyone else,” Rose said, fingertips massaging her temples.  “How do I find the Institute?”


	15. Not Good Enough

**(Hancock)**

Escaping the Glowing Sea was a relief for everyone.  Rose was in especially high spirits, not just because she could stop dosing herself with ridiculous amounts of radiation meds, but also because for the first time since hearing about Kellogg, she had a target and a plan.  She chatted animatedly as they reentered the boundaries of the Commonwealth, letting her guard drop a bit even around Danse.  Hancock had grown surprisingly quiet, but she didn’t seem to notice; she was holding up a conversation with the metal soldier just fine.

“So you were a lawyer, back before the vault?  What is that, exactly?” Danse asked her.  They had already covered the topic of her 200-year-long nap in an icebox, something that caused her considerably less distress the more time she spent out in the wasteland.  It had come up after their meeting with Virgil, after the scientist had passed a comment on her remarkable state of health (given the amount of rads in the air).

“Well specifically, I was training to become the prosecutor for our county… so I would go up in front of a judge and argue why the person on trial was guilty,” she replied.  “I never got a chance to stand fully on my own- I got pregnant with Shaun before that happened- but I assisted in a lot of cases, and even argued a few of them in court with supervision.”

“That sounds like a noble profession.”

“It paid the bills.  Or it would have, if I had gotten a chance to actually make a go of it.”  She sighed.  “So many hours spent studying law books, and I end up in the anarchy of the post-apocalypse.  Figures.  I should have spent more time making poor choices with a sorority or something like that.”

“What’s a sorority?” Hancock asked, curious in spite of himself.  The Mentats always made him eager to add new words to his vocabulary… or at least the one he had when he was high.

Rose grinned at him.  “In colleges, where people used to go to get educated for jobs like mine, there would be groups of people that I guess acted like really involved clubs.  A sorority was one of those groups that’s made up of all women… a bunch of twenty-somethings living together in a big house during the school year.”

His eyes widened, and she could practically see the prurient thoughts crossing his mind.  “Is that so?”

“Yep.  And they would party pretty much every Thursday through Saturday night… lots of alcohol, maybe a few chems, nothing too hardcore usually.  I never went to too many of those parties myself… I wanted to study, get great grades so that I could land a job with a good firm when I graduated.”  She snorted.  “Oh, if the girl I was could see me now…”

“I fail to see what would be so appealing about getting inebriated on a regular basis,” Danse remarked stoically. 

Hancock rolled his eyes.  “Maybe you oughta try it sometime, crew cut.  Might loosen you up a bit.”

“Not likely.”

“It’s not for everyone,” Rose said neutrally.  “Honestly, I couldn’t deal with the initiation and the hazing that goes on to join a sorority anyway.  Didn’t have the patience for it.”

“Hazing?” Danse asked, brow creasing.  “These women beat each other?”

“No!”  Rose laughed.  “No, their hazing definitely wasn’t violent.  It was more like… doing tasks or dares to show you could fit in.  Scavenger hunts, being an older girl’s servant for a day, things like that.  I think one year a bunch of the girls had to break into one of the pools on campus after it got dark and go skinny-dipping without getting caught.”

Hancock tilted his head, gaze traveling over her body as he processed that scenario.  “You sure you weren’t right there with ‘em, Sunshine?”

Rose winked.  “Maybe I was, maybe I wasn’t.  You’re never going to know.”

Danse’s cheeks reddened.  “I’m not certain how that is meant to show your worth.”

Rose chuckled and lightly slapped Danse on his armored shoulder.  “It’s okay, I’m not sure those girls really knew, either.”

Hancock hung back a few steps, watching her interact with the paladin and feeling an odd, lingering dissatisfaction.  Danse made some kind of reply to her statement, earning a laugh, and Hancock felt a tightness jolt through his chest like someone had slugged him.  It wasn’t that he didn’t like hearing Rose laugh- he fucking loved it, actually- but it was really only good when she was laughing for _him_.  Seeing her talk to Danse with that smile on her face was putting him in an increasingly bad mood.  He wasn’t sure exactly what had happened between them, but ever since he went to take to the Children of Atom they had gotten more and more friendly.

He had never had a problem with jealousy before… at least not on his end.  It didn’t tend to happen to much when your relationships lasted an average of a few hours.  In the past, he jumped from tryst to tryst, with most of them ending in a chem-fueled one night stand.  His charm and reputation usually got him that far.  And, being fine on his own, he never sought anything more long-lived than that.  Up until this point, Rose had been the only one to seem to want him around for any length of time… a lapse in judgment that he questioned on a daily basis.  She melded into his life perfectly, like a piece he hadn’t known he was missing.  He felt more alive around her, and was stupid enough to hope that she might feel the same.

But seeing her with Danse… he knew that the paladin had to remind her of her military husband.  The Brotherhood soldier had a sort of rugged-but-clean handsomeness to him that was completely out of reach for someone with skin that looked like jerky.  He could see that they worked well together.  They both seemed to share a similar strategic mindset in fights, and it was almost like Rose could anticipate what Danse was going to do, in a lot of ways.  He had found himself distracted more than once, catching himself watching Rose bob and weave as she alternately used Danse as a weapon or as cover.  It sort of reminded him of a dance… a dance with way more blood and brain matter splattering everywhere, but still.

Danse was clearly attracted to her, too.  Hancock could see it in the way he kept his eyes fixed on her, in all of the questions he asked just to keep her talking.  Rose seemed either oblivious to it, or to be encouraging it, and he wasn’t certain which one would be worse.

Danse made some other comment that Hancock didn’t care enough to catch.  Rose averted her eyes to the ground, murmuring something in return with her lips quirking up in a shy smile.  A faint blush pooled into her cheeks, and Hancock saw her stroke the base of her left ring finger with her thumb, subconsciously searching for the gold band she no longer wore.  The tightness in his chest deepened, like a mirelurk had its claw around him. 

The worst part was that he knew it all made sense.  Danse was an asshat, but he was still a prettyboy soldier with a lot of shiny toys at his disposal.  He was sure of himself and his role in the world, and he didn’t belong to a race that was almost universally mistrusted in the Commonwealth.  A lot of women would be drawn to those qualities, and it appeared that Rose wasn’t an exception.

 _Not only that_ , came an irritating voice in his head, _but Danse’s mistakes didn’t land her in the hands of raiders, either._

Hancock grimaced.  He lit up a cigarette and took a long drag, as though the smoke would purl up into his head and white out his thoughts.  Danse’s eyes flicked back to him, annoyed even by a fucking cigarette, and Hancock flipped him off.  Danse’s face hardened, but he simply turned back to Rose; most likely he was avoiding a fight to stay on her good side.  _Prick._

* * *

**(Rose)**

Another half a day had them back at the precinct in Cambridge.  Hancock had been almost completely silent during the journey, giving non-committal, monosyllabic answers every time Rose tried to ask what was wrong.

“Listen, Rose,” Danse said as they approached the makeshift junk blockades that fenced in the precinct courtyard.  “I know you’re raring to go after that courser, but if you’re up for it, I have something that I could use your help with.  My unit has been searching for a deep range transmitter, and before we left Scribe Haylen told me that she had located one in Arcjet Systems.  It’s not far from here, and I’d be grateful to have a steady gun as backup.”

Rose blinked, a little surprised by the request.  “Sure,” she replied, at the same moment that Hancock growled, “Not a chance.”

She looked back at her friend, who was regarding her with an expression that was in equal turns challenging, stubborn, and… hurt?

Brow furrowing, Rose motioned for Danse to head inside, and faced Hancock more fully with her arms crossed over her chest.

“John, just what exactly is your problem?” she demanded.  “I know Danse isn’t your favorite person in the world, but-”

“That’s a fucking understatement if I ever heard one,” he scoffed.  “So what, you going to let him recruit you now, too?  Better be careful, sister; the last thing this world needs is another self-righteous asshole ‘cleansing’ the Commonwealth.”

Her eyes narrowed.  “So I’m an asshole, is that what you’re saying?”

He made a face and popped a couple more Mentats into his mouth.  “You hated the guy not more than a day ago, and now you jump at the chance to help him with a mission?  What happened to helping the Railroad?  Or looking for your son?  Those priorities playing second fiddle to the Brotherhood now?”

She flinched back like he had swung at her.  “I’m not abandoning either of those.  Is it so bad to want Danse as an ally rather than my enemy?  I don’t agree with the Brotherhood’s philosophies or Danse’s misguided prejudice any more than you do, but from what Danse says, they want to take on the Institute too.  The enemy of my enemy is my friend, right?”

“Just keep tellin’ yourself that, sister.”  It didn’t escape Rose that he wasn’t using his usual pet names for her- doll, love, Sunshine- and it hurt more than she might have expected.  “Might make it easier when you find yourself taking orders from Paladin Dick and his superiors.”

She strode forward and roughly shoved his shoulder with her open palm.  “Is this jealousy, is that it?  You’re worried that I’m going to fall for Danse?”  She laughed, but there was no humor in it.  “How many times do I need to tell you that isn’t going to happen?  Yeah, I don’t hate him quite as much as I did before… turns out he’s just as human as you or I.”

“You’re wrong there.”  Hancock’s expression was set in grim lines, and he reflexively pulled his hat down over his eyes.  “The good paladin doesn’t believe I’m human.  For him, everyone like me is a fuckin’ monster.  He’s tolerating me because he’s hoping to get you on your back, but Danse would gladly put a bullet between my eyes if he thought you’d let him get away with it.”

Rose felt the blood leave her cheeks.  “I would never let that happen.”

“You’re forgetting that I got along just fine before you dropped yourself on my doorstep.”  His voice was caustic.  “Look, if you wanna go, I ain’t gonna stop you.  But if I spend any more time around that glorified tin can I’m going to fucking gut him myself.”

He turned and began walking away then.  Rose stared at his back in shock for a few moments, and then shouted after him:

“So that’s it?  You’re just going to run from me, then?”

“Feel free to look me up when this blows up in your face,” he retorted over his shoulder, not breaking stride.  “If the Brotherhood doesn’t end up brainwashing you, anyway.”

“Urgh!”  Furious, Rose swung the butt of her shotgun around to her front and rammed it into an already broken window of the building, shattering the rest of the glass.  If he wanted to act like a child, then _fine_.  She had enough to worry about without chasing after him to nurse his bruised ego. 

With one last look at Hancock’s retreating form, she stormed off into the precinct, blinking furiously to keep herself from crying.  For now, she had a job to do, and anger would serve her better than tears.


	16. Racial Bias

**(Rose)**

“Holy shit!  Are you okay?” 

Rose hovered near Danse as he sank down on one knee, breathing heavily.  His power armor was still steaming; she didn’t touch it for fear of scalding herself.  It wasn’t her intention to start a Brotherhood of Steel barbeque in the middle of Arcjet, but he had been surrounded by way too many synths and their ammo had been running low.  Starting up the rocket engine had certainly fried any robots… but Danse had still been in the room when she had set it off.  _Oops_.

“I’ll be fine,” Danse grunted, finally pushing himself to his feet.  “I got fried, but the power armor blocked most of the damage.  Nothing a stimpak or two won’t fix.”  He looked around at the charred remains of plastic, metal, and circuitry.  “That was pretty fast thinking.”

“Inspiration in desperation,” Rose said wryly, but despite her sarcastic tone she was relieved to see that the paladin was okay.  Being roasted to death wasn’t a fate she would wish on too many people, even someone as generally aggravating as Danse.

“Were you able to reroute the power to the elevator?”  She nodded.  “Good.  Let’s get out of here before even more synths show up.”

“What exactly is your issue with synths anyway, Danse?” Rose asked as they stepped into the rickety elevator.  The gears groaned under the weight of his power armor, but it began to climb to the top of the building, albeit slowly.  She hoped that she hadn’t gone through all that trouble to power it up only to have the cables snap.

She couldn’t see Danse’s face, but she could feel the frown building there.  “I’m assuming you mean other than the fact that they spent the better part of the last two hours trying to kill us?”

“I mean synths in general, smartass.”  She reloaded as they talked, just in case more Gen 1’s decided to pop up outside the door.  “And ghouls too, for that matter.  I can understand not being the biggest fan of supermutants- I don’t really like the idea of being torn apart and eaten myself- but the others are individuals, as much as you or I.”

“It’s a long story,” Danse said gruffly.

“And we’ve got a long walk ahead of us.  So start talking.”

His sigh sounded raspy through his power armor.  “Very well.”  He thought for a moment.  “I grew up alone in the Capital Wasteland.  Spent most of my childhood picking through ruins and selling scrap.  When I was older and had a few caps to my name, I moved into Rivet City and opened a junk stand.  While I was there, I met a guy named Cutler.  We got along pretty well, watched each other’s backs, and kept each other out of trouble.  When the Brotherhood came through on a recruiting run, we felt like it was the best way out of our nowhere lives, so we joined up.”

“I can see how that would seem more appealing than a lifetime spent selling junk.  Gotta say that I have a hard time picturing you as a merchant, though.”

“Clearly I was ignoring my calling.”

They had reached the top floor and departed the building, relieved when they encountered nothing but the fractured remains of synths they had already destroyed.  Rose felt a weird sense of satisfaction as she stepped over the shattered robotic limbs and torsos… whatever the deep range transmitter was for, apparently the Institute had been after it as well.  The fact that she helped deprive them of something they had been searching for counted as a victory in her book.

“Anyway, about a year after we were posted to the Prydwen, Cutler vanished on a scouting op,” Danse continued, removing his helmet once they got outside so she could see his face.  “It took some convincing, but I was able to convince my CO to let me assemble a squad to go search for him.”

“You had to _convince_ him?  What, was he just going to let Cutler and the others go MIA indefinitely?”

“Having a squad go dark isn’t unusual,” Danse explained somewhat defensively.  “Technology in the wasteland is unreliable, at best, which can make long-distance communication challenging.  And there are often unforeseen circumstances that can extend the duration of an op.”  His face clouded as the memories resurfaced in thoughts.  “Cutler had been gone for over two weeks, though, on a mission that should have taken two days.  It didn’t feel right.”

            “Did you ever find him?” she asked, though the sinking feeling in her chest told her she already knew the answer.

“It took almost three weeks, but we tracked his team down to a supermutant hive.”  Danse’s voice gained a razor-sharp edge as he spoke.  “Those wretched abominations had slaughtered everyone but Cutler.  He should have been so lucky.  Those bastards used their FEV to change him into one of their own kind.”

They were both silent for a moment as Rose absorbed what he said.  She knew there had to be some way the supermutants bolstered their numbers; after all, she had never seen any green-skinned hulking females that she could recall.  But to be infected, forced to change, forced to become one of those cannibalistic savages…

“Damn,” Rose swore softly.  “Danse, I am so sorry.”

His hands clenched around his helmet.  “He wasn’t Cutler anymore.  I had to… it was my duty to… to put him down.”

Her brow creased.  “There wasn’t anything else you could do?”

“The effects of the FEV are irreversible, and he would have gone on to kill a lot of innocent people if I hadn’t acted.”  He sounded like he was trying to convince himself more than her.  “Even if I hadn’t been bound by the expectations of the Brotherhood… I wouldn’t have wanted him to live on like that.  I would hope that he would have done the same for me.”

Trying to keep her tone gentle, Rose asked, “So you hate all ‘non-humans’ because of what those supermutants did to your friend?”

“Wouldn’t you?” Danse demanded, suddenly incensed.  He wheeled on Rose, intimidating in his massive armor.  “Cutler was the only true friend I ever had, and those _things_ corrupted everything he was.  I had to gun down my best friend!”

“I wouldn’t presume to know what that’s like,” Rose said evenly, not backing down from the soldier’s anger.  “But condemning the many based on the actions of the few is wrong, Danse.”

Danse scowled and turned away.  “You don’t understand.”

“Maybe not… but I do know that some of the first people to reach out and help me when I woke up in this world weren’t what you consider human,” she countered.  “My friend Nick is a detective in Diamond City who has been helping me search for my son… for free, I might add.  He’s probably one of the best people I’ve ever met, and he’s a synth.  And Hancock…”

“What is it with you and that ghoul, anyway?” Danse asked sharply.  “How you can even stand to be near him… aren’t you worried about radiation poisoning?”

“What, you mean like when we’re having sex?”  Danse made a disgusted noise and turned away, uncomfortable.  “Yeah, that’s right; I’ve slept with him.  And not that it’s any of your business, but no; being around him has never made me sick.”

“He’s a violent drug addict with a criminal history.  How does an educated woman like yourself get mixed up with someone like that in the first place?”

She wrinkled her nose.  “God, you sound just like my father.  Hancock is not a _drug addict_ ; he likes chems, sure, but he isn’t addicted.  I don’t know that ghouls can really become addicted to chems, at least not in the way that we can.   And violence is really par for the course out here in the wasteland; if that’s all you’ve got to judge him with, then you don’t really have a leg to stand on.”

“You didn’t answer my question.”

She arched an eyebrow at him, but deigned to answer.  “I met him when I went into Goodneighbor looking for leads on my son.  He helped me to take out the man who murdered my husband, and he brought me back after I was snatched up by a raider gang, with help from Nick and our friend Piper.  I’d be dead a hundred times over if I hadn’t had him with me to watch my back.”

“And yet he left.”

Her heart sank as she remembered their fight.  “Yeah, he left.”  She kicked at a rusted-out iron railing as they walked, knocking it into the dust.  “Stubborn jackass.”

Danse didn’t hesitate to take advantage of the opening.  “I wish you’d reconsider joining the Brotherhood.  It’d be a much better use of your skills… we need soldiers like you.  Bold, unafraid to do what needs to be done, passionate.”  He shifted a little awkwardly, and then continued, “I’d be willing to personally sponsor you, if that were the case.”

Rose’s steps faltered for a moment.  “Wow.  That’s… I appreciate the vote of confidence, Danse.  But I can’t abandon the search for my son to run ops to further your goals.  And running the Minutemen is responsibility enough.”  She chuckled, trying to lighten the rejection somewhat.  “Besides, I’m terrible at taking orders.  I can’t kowtow to someone just because they have a higher rank than me.  I’d be more trouble than I’m worth.”

“The offer still stands, if you ever change your mind.”  Another minute or so of silence, and then Danse asked, “So what’s next for you, then?  You’re going after that courser?”

Rose hummed an affirmative.  “I’m going back to Goodneighbor first though.”

“For your pet ghoul.”

“Watch it,” she warned.  “And yes.  John acted like an idiot, but I think I understand why.  I’m not giving up on him because of one fight, even if he’s behaving like a hardheaded idiot.  He’ll have headed back to his city… I guess I’ll either talk things out with him or beat him into submission.  Whatever works.”  She glanced up at Danse.  “That last part was a joke, by the way.  In case that wasn’t clear.”

“I _do_ possess a sense of humor, as much as you believe the contrary to be true.”  Danse sighed.  “I wish you wouldn’t go back there, but walking through Boston is dangerous on your own… especially for a female.  If you like, I can escort you back safely.  I owe you that much at least.”

“I’d appreciate the backup, thanks.”  She grinned.  “Don’t worry, I won’t make you go in and say hi.”


	17. Damsel to the Rescue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For lovers of the Silver Shroud quest, I apologize =P. I needed a bad guy and Sinjin made more sense as a longtime enemy of Hancock's than inventing a new character.
> 
> (The two raiders here are Northy and Smiling Kate... I originally had them as named characters, but they never really spoke up at all during the scene, so it ultimately made more sense to keep them nameless).

**(Hancock)**

Hancock leaned against the doorway of his balcony, staring into the dark shadows of the alley below.  Empty bottles and used Jet inhalers were littered around the room behind him.  It was one of the few times he had been alone since arriving back in Goodneighbor. 

The minute he had set foot back inside the city walls there had been nothing but people after him for things.  Fahrenheit had harangued him for being gone so long, complaining about the citizens’ restlessness, the gangs who were muscling in on their drug trade, and the upstarts who thought that his absence could be an opening to take power for themselves.  Drifters and long-time residents alike clamored for his attention, usually wanting chems and reassurance that he hadn’t abandoned them all.  He smoothed over all of their concerns with honeyed words and plenty of Jet, but it was fucking exhausting.  It wasn’t like he didn’t care about his people, but after being free on the road for so long, having the mantel of Mayor back on his shoulders was stifling.

He had tried unwinding down in the Third Rail, but it was like Magnolia had planned her entire song list to worsen his mood.  She had sung beautifully, as always, but each tune was about heartbreak and lost love; the subject choice had been responsible for at least fifty percent of the varied substances he had imbibed that evening.  He grimaced to himself, his mood sour in spite of his high, and he tried not to imagine for the hundredth time what Rose was doing out there with Danse.  The thought of her smooth, pale legs wrapped around the paladin’s hips was enough to make him want to set someone on fire.  Preferably a power-armor-wearing someone with the personality of a mirelurk.

In an effort to distract himself, he forced his thoughts over to the worries that Fahrenheit had bitched about for over an hour earlier that evening.  She was concerned- probably justifiably- that the city wasn’t secure enough.  The closely-stacked buildings and improvised walls had given them some measure of protection, and so far the city’s rep had been enough to dissuade anyone thinking about causing real trouble.  He had a few guards on the payroll:  enough to watch the Old State House, the Third Rail, and one or two left over to hang out in the streets as a general deterrent.  However, their security was nothing compared to the fucking army that Diamond City had, and he knew it.  Of the two, Goodneighbor was the easier target.

He had shied away from creating an actual police force within city walls because it went against the entire Goodneighbor way of doing things.  He could easily afford to install some turrets around the perimeter, though… and maybe set aside an arsenal for anyone willing to protect their home against assholes looking to pick a fight, if the need arose.  Anything much more than that and the lines between freedom and control started getting blurry.

He ran a hand over his face, brow pinched.  Keeping Goodneighbor free was becoming a bigger challenge with each passing month, and it was even harder to do it without the general populace seeing behind the scenes.  Fahrenheit had already silenced a number of people on his behalf… the lesser offenders had walked away black and blue.  The others didn’t walk away at all.  If he had still been a drifter, he would have easily been one of them.  Protecting his rep and his interests had a cost, one that was getting steeper as time went on.

He heard the creak of the staircase behind him and sighed, assuming that Fahrenheit had come back to bitch some more about how he stood around doing nothing.  The woman nagged more than his own mother had done… though she was much more likely to follow through with her threats of physical violence.

“Damn it Fahre, can’t you give it a rest already?” he demanded.  He turned around towards her and was immediately met with the butt of a gun slamming across his face.

“Fuck!”  

He stumbled back against the door frame, and bright stars that had nothing to do with chems flashed across his vision.  Before he could recover, two sets of arms grabbed him and slammed him back against the wall; pain exploded across his ribs as a third person drove their fist into his solar plexus.  He coughed, trying to get his breath back. 

As his vision cleared he looked up at the person who stood before him.  His heart sank as he recognized the bulky, scarred physique and heavily modified combat armor.

He hitched a cocky smirk onto his face.  “Long time no see, Sinjin.”

The muscular ghoul grinned.  “John Hancock.  You and I need to have a chat.”

* * *

**(Rose)**

The streets were empty when Rose stepped through Goodneighbor’s doors.  It was very late- or technically very early.  She could have waited, staying at the precinct in Cambridge or couch-surfing with Piper in Diamond City until morning, but she felt impatient.  She had never been one to sit by quietly whenever she and Nate had gotten into a fight; if he tried to walk away, she would simply follow him until they had hashed everything out.  Perhaps it was the lawyer in her.  That need to immediately fix everything or put it to rest hadn’t gone away with Hancock, and their argument had been eating at her for the past two days.

She stepped into the Old State House, assuming that was where she would be most likely to find him at that hour.  Possibly asleep, probably high.  Either way she was fairly certain she was in for another yelling match.  She didn’t want Hancock to be mad at her, but she wasn’t going to say she was wrong, either.  Danse wasn’t her favorite person but he was still a _person_ , and one that had needed her help.

The scent of copper invaded her senses as soon as she crossed the threshold, overwhelming and unpleasant.  She felt her heart stop for an instant when she saw the body of one of Hancock’s guards sprawled at the foot of the stairs, throat cut in a gaping red smile.  There were no signs of a struggle; he had been killed quickly and silently, taken by surprise.  That was far more professional than the usual M.O. of a raider gang or even the Gunners.

Fahrenheit was slumped against the door across the room, behind the spiral staircase.  Rose stepped over to her, keeping her footsteps light, and felt for a pulse.  Her heart was still beating, if a little sluggishly.  There were no visible wounds that Rose could see, but she did mark an empty Calmex vial lying about a foot or so away on the ground.  She had been drugged, then.  Rose exhaled slowly; this all gave her a really bad feeling in the pit of her stomach.  Whoever had done this was smart enough to get the jump on Fahre, and the fact that they didn’t come in guns blazing meant that there was a specific goal- or target- in mind.

A quick glance around told her the bottom floor was empty, save for Fahre and the guard’s body.   She could hear footsteps upstairs; they were evenly spaced, meaning whoever was up there was pacing.  Rose readied her shotgun and slowly moved up the stairs, stepping gingerly to avoid any creaks.

As she neared the second floor she could hear muffled thumps and pained grunts coming from behind the closed door of the balcony room, and then a voice she didn’t recognize.

“You always were too mouthy for your own good, John,” the voice said.  “Gonna get you killed one of these days.”

“And here I thought my wit was what made me special,” came Hancock’s sarcastic reply, and Rose felt the vise around her heart loosen somewhat.  At least he was alive.  _For now_.

She silently pushed her shotgun back around to her back and switched to her 10mm.  If she had to fire quickly, she didn’t want to risk catching Hancock in the blast from the larger weapon.  She eased her way towards the door, careful to stick to the side so her shadow wouldn’t obscure the cracks.

“Why the fuck are you here, Sinjin?” Hancock asked.

“Because I’m disappointed in you, John,” the other man replied, his tone both mocking and condescending.  “You took a great city and destroyed it.  Vic had a good thing going… a city full of addicts and degenerates, pouring all their caps into the business and too afraid to so much as lift their heads.  Then you came in with this ‘Of the people, for the people’ bullshit.  My business has taken a big hit now that these junkies aren’t afraid of getting their heads bashed in.”

Taking a deep breath, Rose pushed the doors open.  She took in the scene in an instant:  Hancock, looking bloodied and bruised, was being restrained by some raider while a second man in combat armor paced in front of him.  He was a ghoul, and had a powerfully muscled physique that told her he was likely just as dangerous unarmed as not.  He reacted incredibly quickly for having been surprised, pulling out a pistol of his own and aiming it right for her face.

That was when a third raider came from the side.  She knocked Rose’s gun out of her hands with her own rifle and brought a knife up under her chin in the same movement.  Her free hand pulled Rose’s shotgun off her shoulder, tossing it to the side.  Rose lifted her palms in a gesture of surrender, jaw clenched. 

“You got another bodyguard I didn’t hear about, John?” the ghoul asked with a shark-like smirk.  His black eyes- just like Hancock’s, but lacking their humor and warmth- never moved from hers.  “Looks like someone’s got a thing for redheads.”

“She’s no one important,” Hancock muttered.  “Just another citizen.  She ain’t apart of this.”

The other ghoul- Rose assumed he was Sinjin- glanced between the two of them and then gave a quick bark of a laugh.  “Oh, I get it.  There were rumors that a nubile little vault-dweller had you by the balls… I’m guessing this must be her.”  His gaze ran over her figure, and she resisted the urge to shudder.  “Not bad.  Smoothskin and everything.  Might have to borrow her when we get through here.”

“You won’t live fucking long enough,” she promised, which only amused him more.

“And she’s got a mouth on her to boot!  I can put that to much better use.”  He winked lasciviously.  “Best to leave the threats to the ones with the guns.”

“Who the fuck are you?” she asked, flinching away from the sharp edge of the knife at her throat.

“A real old friend of your boyfriend’s.”  He threw a punch into Hancock’s solar plexus casually, knocking the wind out of him.  “You seem surprised.  He hasn’t told you about his unsavory past, huh?”  He chuckled.  “We made some pretty fun memories together, didn’t we, John?”

“Liar,” she snarled, but all three raiders laughed in a way that made her suddenly less sure.

“You think so?  I’ve heard a couple things about this woman you’re runnin’ with, John.”  Sinjin stood between them and pulled out a large knife, playing with it idly.  “Big shot with those Minutemen squares.  Made a lotta enemies in our circles.”  He turned towards Rose, head cocked.  “I gotta say, you don’t seem the type to be shacking up with a drug-addled murderer.”

“If your intent is to shock me, you’ll be disappointed,” Rose replied coldly. 

“Huh.  So you know about the people he’s killed to keep his sweet little gig as mayor?  That merc woman he keeps on the payroll ain’t just for looks.  Packs a mean fucking punch, actually.”  His grin broadened as he sensed her hesitation.  “I can’t imagine you’re in the dark about all of the drug money he pulls in.  Keeping his beloved devotees hooked is what keeps that storehouse of his nice and full.”

Rose could feel herself go pale, though she did her best to keep her poker face.  Truthfully, she had never given much thought to Hancock’s past.  She hadn’t harbored any delusions about his innocence… sort of hard to do that after stabbing Finn was how he decided to introduce himself.  She’d just assumed that he did what he’d always said:  he hurt people who needed hurting.  Killing people for the sake of staying in power, though… that was something else entirely.  She had assisted on cases on the mafia and local gangs for doing that exact same thing. 

She looked over at Hancock to see how he was reacting to all of this; he was avoiding her gaze, which didn’t offer her any comfort.  But after a moment her will hardened; she knew that Sinjin was telling her these things for the sheer sadistic joy of causing pain, and to distract her.  For the moment, taking care of him and his little henchmen was the most important thing.

She had to keep him talking, though, so she played along.  “I don’t believe you,” she said, letting her voice crack just slightly.  Moving slowly so as to not cause alarm, she wrapped her arms around her middle, as though she were holding herself together. 

“The Hancock I know wouldn’t be capable of that,” she continued, surreptitiously pinching herself to get her eyes to tear up.  Hancock had given her a brief confused look at that one; she closed her eyes and gave the barest shake of her head, hardly more than a tic, and prayed he’d pick up on the hint.

“It’s possible; he’s certainly gone soft, with all of these ideas about creating a ‘refuge for the lost’ and all of that bullshit,” Sinjin scoffed.  “I thought maybe, when he took out Vic and them the way he did, that my little addict might’ve finally found some balls.  Couldn’t be more disappointed.”

“Fuck you, Sinjin,” Hancock growled.

The gangster wheeled on him, brandishing his knife.  “I oughta just cut that smartass tongue of yours out right now…”

Rose’s fingers closed around the hilt of the knife she had hidden in her waistband while his back was turned.  She had one chance to get this right; one wrong move and the woman holding her would drive four inches of steel into her throat.

She took a deep breath, and shoved herself backwards with all of her strength.  The woman stumbled back, giving Rose enough space to duck down and away from the blade at her neck.  She slashed at her femoral artery, and when the woman doubled over in pain and shock Rose drove her knife into her temple.

As she fell, Rose lunged for the shotgun she had taken away; the sharp crack of a pistol filled the room and white-hot metal pierced through her right shoulder.  Sinjin had shot her.  Her teeth clenched as she bit back a scream, snatching the shotgun with her left hand instead of her right.  She could see Hancock wrestling with the other raider out of the corner of her eye, though in his battered condition it wasn’t likely a fight he could win.

She remembered to move in just the right amount of time and rolled out of the way as another bullet from Sinjin’s gun lodged itself in the wall where her head had been.  She lifted the shotgun and fired, but the recoil was too much for her to handle with one arm; the shot missed by a wide margin and she nearly dropped it, wincing as the gun slammed back against her bicep and ribcage.

Sinjin was laughing.  He closed the gap between them in two strides and yanked the shotgun out of her grip; his other hand closed around her throat and he lifted her off her feet as easily as if she had been a child.

“Scrappy little bitch,” he remarked, black eyes flashing coldly.  “Coulda made use of someone like you.  Too bad.”

His fingers tightened around her windpipe, and stars began to flicker in front of her eyes.  Unable to think of anything else, she kicked as hard as she could… and actually connected with his stomach.  Sinjin dropped her immediately; she landed on her injured shoulder and screamed as pain exploded through her side.  She rolled to the side and felt her shotgun underneath her; Sinjin had pulled out his pistol again and was aiming for her.  In the space of a second, she pulled the shotgun up and fired again, using the floor to steady her aim.  The first shot took him in the armored chest, staggering him but otherwise doing no damage.  She fired again, and this time caught his leg, shredding the skin there and shattering his knee.  He collapsed, roaring in fury.  Rose pulled herself over to him while he writhed in agony, shoved the barrel under his chin, and squeezed the trigger for a third time.  Sinjin stopped moving after that.

A second shot followed and Rose blinked, for a moment thinking she was hearing an echo.  Then she looked up to where Hancock still wrestled with the other raider; the raider had shot him point-blank in the stomach.  Hancock dropped to his knees, hand pressed against his abdomen and a surprised expression on his face.

“John!”

Acting so quickly it was more instinct than anything else, Rose scooped up the pistol from Sinjin’s limp fingers and unloaded the rest of the magazine at the raider.  Even in her left hand, she had considerably better aim with the smaller gun, and the bullets found their mark in his shoulders, neck, and head.

Ignoring the agonizing pain in her shoulder, Rose pushed herself to her feet and rushed to Hancock’s side.  He was slumped against the wall now, breathing shallowly with his eyes closed.

“Dammit John, stay awake!” she growled, shaking him.  He didn’t respond.  “I did not go through all of this so you could get yourself killed!  John!”

His muscles were steadily getting weaker; he collapsed onto the floor when he could no longer hold himself upright.  Rose pressed her hand against his neck; his pulse was getting slower and weaker with each passing second.

“You will not die on me, John!” she said, half demanding and half pleading.  She looked around in vain to see if she could see any stimpaks or first aid nearby; there were none.  “I’ve lost too much already.  I’m not fucking losing you too.”


	18. Worth Fighting For

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally reached the end of part 2... this ended up being wayyyy longer than I had planned. Thanks everyone who stuck with it this long! This definitely wasn't the easiest fic I've ever written and I'm grateful for all of you who put up with me sort of bumbling my way through all of it.
> 
> *Updated/ rewritten to hopefully be much better and less rushed.*

**(Hancock)**

Oddly, since he had become a ghoul, Hancock had found himself thinking more about death than he ever had when he was human.  Probably because death was a lot more uncomfortable subject back then, if he was gonna get all psychological about it.  Old age, disease, overdosing.  Any of those was inevitable if a bullet didn’t get you first.  But once he traded in smooth skin for scars, bullets became the only thing he had left to worry about.

Funny how that had worked out.  Fate could kind of be an asshole like that.

He had been around his fair share of people knocking on death’s door.  Most of them, the ones who survived, said that all pain went away right as the Grim Reaper came calling.  So when he drifted back into consciousness without feeling any discomfort, his first thought was that Sinjin had actually killed him.

For being dead, though, he still felt pretty damn alive.

He opened his eyes and was surprised to see that he was in his room in the Old State House, lying in bed.  He was even more surprised to see Rose sitting in a chair next to him.  She didn’t immediately notice he was awake; her feet were propped up on the edge of the mattress, her head bowed over some papers in her hand.  She flipped a pencil back and forth agitatedly between her fingers.  By the looks of the dark circles under her eyes and faint lines creasing her brow, she hadn’t slept in a while.

“So if I’m Sleeping Beauty, what does that make you?” he asked, causing her to startle just a bit.

“You’re awake!”  Her face lit up for a split second, and then she leaned forward to punch him hard in the arm.

“Ow!  What the hell was that for?”

“You fucking idiot!”  She shook her head.  “You know you scared me almost to death?  I’m gone for _two damn days_ …”

“Yeah, and you should’ve just stayed away,” he retorted defensively, as any previous levity evaporated.  He pushed himself out of bed and began looking for his shirt and boots.  “I could’ve handled that myself.”

“Yes, you had things _completely_ under control when I walked through that door.”  She stood and crossed her arms.  “How the hell did that asshole even make it inside?”

“A conversation I’ll be having with Fahrenheit,” he muttered.  In a louder tone, he asked, “How long was I out?”

“About a day and a half, give or take a few hours.  Amari wanted to keep you sedated until the damage to your internal organs was healed.”

He found his shirt and pulled it on, jumping when Rose reached out to touch his arm.

“I really thought I might lose you,” she said quietly.  “If the commotion hadn’t woken Daisy up… she heard the gunshots and ran to get Amari.  They met me before I had even gotten outside.  Another couple of minutes and you would have bled out, or become septic.”

“Well, thanks for rescue.”  He spotted his coat draped across the back of the chair and slid that over his shoulders.  “Good of you to take a break from running ops with Officer Prettyboy to check in on me.”

Her mouth dropped open.  “You _cannot_ be serious.”  She stepped up to him, her gaze turning sharper than razors.  “You. Almost. _Died._   John, how can you even still be mad about that?”

He shrugged and felt around in his pockets for some Jet or Mentats, grimacing when he found none.  “Not mad, sister.  If you like him so much, then don’t stay away on my account.”

“You are _unbelievable_!”  She shoved him back, forcing him to look at her.  “Just what do I have to do to convince you that I care, John?  _You_ walked away.  Not me.”

“Don’t pretend like you don’t have the hots for him,” he retorted angrily.  “I saw the way you looked at him.  Why would you want to be with a freak like me when you could have a Dead-Husband-2.0?”

Her hand cracked across his face.  He stumbled a step and stared at her, stunned that she had actually slapped him.  It had fucking hurt, too.  She glared at him, eyes bright with unshed tears and color burning high in her cheeks.

“John Hancock, don’t you _ever_ say something like that to me again,” she warned, her voice dangerously low.  “I loved Nate, but to assume that I’d fall for Danse just because they look similar… as if I were really that shallow.”  She closed her eyes and pressed her fingertips to her temples.  “So tell me, do you really think that little of me, or are you just being the world’s biggest idiot?”

“No need to stoop to name-callin’ now,” he drawled sarcastically.  “Look, I get it, alright?  Danse can give you things I can’t.  You heard what Sinjin said; he wasn’t lyin’, Rose.  Danse, jackass that he is, is all about honor and morality… least as he sees it, anyway.”  He tried for a shrug, but the movement felt stiff.  “My world ain’t like that.”

 “And mine is?”

A small sound of disbelief escaped him.  He found his knife and began flipping it around his hand, giving himself a reason not to look at her.

When he did reply, his voice came out in a mutter.  “Doll, there ain’t a soul in the wasteland that’s got more good in ‘em than you.”

He didn’t dare look at her expression, but he could see her posture soften out of the corner of his eye.

“I would think you of all people would know how untrue that is, John.”  She ran a hand through her hair.  “There is… so much more blood on my hands than I would have ever imagined.  I don’t even think twice about it anymore.” 

She placed herself back in front of him and tilted his chin up so that he had no choice but to meet her eyes.  Her palm pressed against his cheek, soothing the sting that still burned there.

“I’m not going to pretend to be thrilled that you’ve killed people to keep calling yourself mayor, but I’m not going to act like I’m surprised, either.”  Her eyes searched his face as she spoke.  “Morality doesn’t work the same way now as it did in my time.  I may not approve of everything you’ve done, but I’m in no place to judge you for it.”

“Glad to know where you stand, then.” 

He tried to pull away, but Rose wouldn’t let him.

“Damn it, will you just listen to what I’m trying to tell you?”  She wrapped both hands around the back of his neck.  “John, Danse doesn’t hold a candle to you.”

 “Don’t patronize me.” 

He shook her off, but before he could move away she shoved him roughly backwards for about the third time.

He felt his fists clench and forced himself to take a deep breath.  “Doll, if you don’t knock that shit off…”

“You are so fucking _stubborn!_ ” she growled, and actually stomped her foot in irritation.  He might’ve thought it was cute if they weren’t arguing.  “You want a list?  _Fine_.”  She held up her hand, lowering her fingers as she ticked her reasons off.  “One:  Danse is so boring that I wanted to slam my head against a wall the entire time I was working with him.  If we had a conversation at all that stretched beyond what we were actively shooting at, it usually ended with him being a racist ass and me biting his head off.  Two:  he isn’t kind like you are... and if you roll your eyes at me again, I’ll be the next one to put a bullet in you.” 

It took effort not to grin at that; she’d probably do it, too. 

“Danse wouldn’t have had the patience to help keep me together after Jayce tortured me,” Rose continued seriously.  “In his eyes, I would’ve been a hazard, a liability… at best, a distraction.  Three:  Anything that doesn’t live up to his standard of morality is a failure… he even lectured me for _swearing_.”  Her lips curled back in exasperated disgust.  “Because my choice of vernacular is so incredibly vital to the survival of the Commonwealth.”

She moved closer to him, adrenaline making her words come too fast.  “Danse will only act if he thinks it will bring him the approval of the Brotherhood; his entire identity depends upon them.  _You_ act because it’s the right thing to do.”  She paused.  “Or the fun thing to do.  Sometimes both.”  Hancock smirked, and she went on.  “I’ve known who and what you are from the second I met you.  Sometimes you piss me off to no end- like right now- but I’ve never once looked back at the end of the day and regretted having you with me. I… _fuck._ ”  She turned away, cheeks suddenly scarlet, and took a deep breath as she tugged nervously on her long hair.

His voice felt rough in his throat.  “You what?”

She looked back at him, biting on her lip.  “I… goddammit.  I’m in love with you, John.”

The words came out in almost a whisper, but they still hit him like a truck.  He stared at the suddenly bashful woman in front of him and hardly dared to believe what he was hearing. 

“You don’t really mean that,” he replied, and chuckled reflexively.  “I mean, come on.  You don’t want to wake up to this ugly mug every day for the rest of your life.  Wouldn’t wish that on my worst enemies.”

“I’ve never thought you were ugly,” she said firmly.  “Different?  Sure.  A pain in the ass?  Sometimes.  But never ugly.”  She draped her arms around his shoulders, and the expression on her face was so goddamned tender that he almost couldn’t stand it.  “You might have the final word in this town, but you don’t get to have a say in who I choose to fall for.  I understand if you don’t feel the same way, but… I want to be with _you_.  Not Danse or anyone else.  Just you.”

It was then that he started to think that maybe he had died after all, because there was no way those words had really come out of her mouth.  But then that would make this Heaven, or Paradise, or whatever you wanted to call it, and it didn’t seem to add up that he’d end up there after kicking the bucket.  He wasn’t high, and her slap earlier had definitely stung enough to convince him that he hadn’t been dreaming.

So… this all had to be real, then.

Rose shifted her weight from side to side as she started to frown.  “Are you going to reply to me at all, or are you just going to leave me hanging out to-”

He kissed her.  Seemed to be the only move that would make sense, since there was no way anything articulate was gonna come out of his mouth.

Rose’s reaction was immediate.  Her body pinned his against the wall; her hands pulled his face to hers like she couldn’t get close enough.  She broke away for a brief second to trail kisses along his jaw, his cheekbones, anything she could reach.

He used her hips to spin her around, reversing their positions.  He sought her lips again roughly while his hands roved her body, reclaiming each part of her that he’d imagined Danse touching.  A high-pitched gasp escaped her when he slipped his fingers below her waistband, but he teased her, using only the lightest pressure to stroke her over her underwear.

“John…”

He dipped his head to nip at her throat.  “You want me to fuck you, Sunshine?”

She mumbled incoherently in response, rolling her hips against his hand. 

“You’d rather fuck a filthy ghoul like me than that rusted-out tin can soldier?”

“God, yes.”

Her body was starting to shake.  He increased the pressure of his fingers at her clit, cock stiffening at the keening moan that escaped her as he did so.  Fuck, but he loved that sound.

“Tell me again.”

A shudder went through his own body as her nails dragged along his shoulders.  She didn’t seem immediately able to speak.  He dipped two slender fingers into her as encouragement, making her hips buck sharply against him.

“John!”  His name came out in a gasp that sounded almost like swearing.  “John, I swear to god if you don’t get inside me _right now_ …”

He smirked.  “No need to beg, Sunshine.”

Her voice vibrated in a sweet little growl, but he didn’t give her time to think of a retort.  He swung her around onto the bed behind them.  A few quick tugs had their clothes on the floor, and then he plunged into her with a hard thrust.  She cried out as he filled her, loud enough to be easily heard through the thin walls of the State House.  He hoped that whole damn Commonwealth could hear her.

She hooked her ankles around his waist, urging him to press into her more deeply.  Her body undulated after one particularly deep thrust, and then she tumbled over the edge.  Her muscles clenched around him as his name tore from her throat in a hoarse cry.  That sound was all he needed to follow her just a few moments after.  He pushed his hips into her one last time, making a noise that might have been embarrassing if he wasn’t coming hard enough to clear his mind of all rational thought.

For a moment they were both motionless as they caught their breath.  He stared at her face like he’d never looked properly before.  She was sweaty and flushed and so goddamned beautiful, and somehow she was his.  He had done his best to fuck things up, and still she had stayed.  How the fuck did he deserve something like that?

“So,” Rose said as she reached up to give him a sweetly chaste kiss, “does all that mean what I think it means?”

He dropped his forehead against hers.  “Yeah, guess it does.  Love you too, Sunshine.”

The words sent a thrill through him as they passed his lips.  It was the first time he had said that to any woman… the thought was exhilarating, but also more than a little terrifying.  Love was never something that’d been on the table with anyone else.  Everything had always been about personal gratification.

But not with her.  Yeah, it sort of scared him shitless to admit it, but it was true.  Thinking back, it was pretty obvious that he’d never had a chance.  He’d been a goner since day one.

Rose smiled, eyes closed, and curled into his side as he shifted next to her on the mattress.  “Good.  I might have had to kill you if it didn’t.” 

He chuckled.  “Guess it’s true what they say about make-up sex… never been with anyone long enough to find out.”

She snorted.  “I can create plenty of other things to fight about if you like it that much.”

“Might come in handy if we get bored,” he teased, and she wrinkled her nose at him.

Her hand caressed the skin under his shirt, immediately finding the new scar amidst the rest of his ruined flesh.  Her expression grew contemplative as she traced the circular outline.  He could tell even without looking at her where her thoughts had gone.

“I’m sorry about everything with Danse,” she said at length.  “I should have realized how much it was bothering you.”

He shrugged, idly stroking her soft hair.  “And I should have been less of a jealous asshole.  Guess I’m not used to wanting something bad enough to not wanna share.”

“And if you ever try dying on me again, I’m going to save your life just so I can have the pleasure of beating you to death.”

He laughed.  “I don’t doubt it, love.  I’d rather you be the one to do me in than some dick like Sinjin anyway.  At least then I’d have a better view.”  She giggled, an unusually girlish sound for her, and it was nearly enough to make him hard again.  “Until then it looks like we’re stuck with each other.”

She smiled, and planted a light kiss on his jaw.  “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”


End file.
